Merle's discovery did not come without side effects.

For one, he was no longer able to look at walkers the same way anymore.

Oh, he did whatever killing was needed to be done, they were trying to eat him after all, but he couldn't help but watch them more closely now, lest any signs of intelligence be overlooked. Needless to say, none were, and he told himself he was being ridiculous, but now that he'd seen her, and what she was capable of, it was difficult not to search for similarities in her fellow deadheads.

This new way of looking at things did not end with the dead either, it also applied to the living, and two individuals amongst the living in particular - the Governor and Milton.

As the key to her story, Merle is compelled to view them with different eyes. He does so with a poker face firmly in place at all times, knowing how poorly their leader reacts to anything he might construe as interference. It isn't easy though - Merle lives to pick at people and although he wouldn't dare cross the line with the Governor, Milton was another story.

He practically itched to pull him down a peg or two.

She's just some experiment to him. A piece of data.

It made his blood boil.

Merle knew he was hardly a model of good behaviour himself, and he'd probably even stoop to taunting or playing with walkers if the mood so took him, but what they were doing was on another level because it's prolonged ill-treatment of someone clearly not immune to suffering.

The third visit has Merle practically squirming with unease. He tosses a blanket and some food into the cell and she looks at him astonished. Then comes the usual routine with the jerky - jamming the cell door shut with clothes and wolfing the food down before he has chance to take it from her, but she eyes the blanket warily - unsure if it's some sort of trick and Merle's stomach sinks because how bad has your life got to be if you're questioning even the smallest of comforts?

"Hey, s'alright, I ain't gonna do nuthin," he says, arms up where she can see them, but it doesn't have the desired effect because she's back in her corner, fidgety as all hell, and he curses because it clearly wasn't beyond their leader to play games with her - to feign generosity only to pile on the punishment later.

Her eyes flicker upwards to his prosthetic and it dawns on him then that so long as he is armed (literally), he's not going to be getting anywhere with her anytime soon. He's reluctant to remove it, because he feels naked without it, but since he has no intention of entering her cell, he decides to do her that courtesy, in the interest of meeting on equal terms so-to-speak.

He does this as he does all things - noisily with a touch of the overdramatic. Slamming it down on the ground with a flourish and waiting to see how she will react.

She narrows her eyes.

He inhales so fast he chokes.

He's coughing and his eyes are bugging out of his head because what the everloving f…?

His gaze turns hard as shock settles into anger, but it doesn't impress her in the slightest and he shakes his head because he reckons she'll be the death of him.

"Alright, alright!" he yells, and with an exasperated growl and a childish pout, he removes the collection of knives from his person and lays them out on the floor so she can see them.

"Ya happy now? Or do I gotta get nekked, fore ya gimme the time o' day!?"

Much grumbling follows, mostly because he can't get over how well she read him but then his brain takes the opportunity to remind him that perhaps he should be a bit quieter in his furor, it was the middle of the night after all. In this vein, he removes his shirt, jamming it under the door that separates her realm from the rest of the compound and it's probably psychological more than anything, but if anyone does come to investigate the hubbub, he'd rather keep them out whilst he's disarmed. Then he realises what he's done and it has him smirking because who would've thought he'd be learning a trick or two from a walker?

"So, here we are Twitchy, one on one, hows about ya come say hello?"

Knowing by now not to expect much, he isn't disappointed by her lack of response, but is pleasantly surprised to find her staring at him, or to be more specific, his stump. His initial reaction is to put the blade back on, because, well, it's cooler, isn't it? And macho that he is, he can't resist a chance to show off, but this is the first time she's taken any real interest in him (beyond trying to get away from him), so he pushes the urge aside in favour of letting her look her fill.

Which she does, with a fascination that is unnerving.

Merle is about to quip that she seems to have a thing for cripples, (smooth operator that he is), but doesn't get chance, because she has taken her own arm in hand (the one that is bent and broken in ways that make him want to vomit) and is gesturing with a flick of the head to his stump. The next moment has him practically falling over himself because she looks at him dead on (with those unblinking eyes) and her mouth opens and closes around a word. He can't hear what she says because no voice emerges, but he can definitely tell what the word is;

"Ouch."

"So, next thing I know I'm havin' ta saw my own goddamn hand off, cuz that dumb bastard dropped the key down a drain! I mean can you believe this shit!?"

Merle has gotten a lot of miles out of this story. It never fails to get him in a stew.

Round about this point, however, people usually start asking questions as to how he ended up handcuffed in the first place, because he always leaves out the part about him being an asshole. On this day however, no questions come and it kind of throws him.

He stares at her wrecked body, taking in the deep scars that adorn her throat and wonders if she could answer him if she wanted to. Which brings him to wondering how she died.

Strangulation perhaps? It couldn't be a broken neck - she wouldn't be able to hold her head up, and isn't that a sorry thought? He squirms because he's never been forced to consider such things before - the many ways to die and how they might affect your existence as a walker.

Does she heal at all? Or will she rot away to bones and experience it all?

The idea has him sick to the stomach and lost in an uncharacteristic silence. Somehow complaining about having to cut your own hand off doesn't seem right when confronted with someone going through the worst thing one could possibly imagine.

He could do anything to her... and she'd have to 'live' through the pain...

He suddenly has an overwhelming urge to give her one of his knives. To offer her that choice. If there was ever a situation where ending it was fitting then it was this one.

He hesitates.

To offer her a merciful 'death' could cost him everything. He could deny having a hand in it, but the Governor sees all. Merle's intervention might well end up with him taking her place as the next 'experiment' and as sorry as he feels for her, he doesn't feel that sorry.

This thought has him very worried indeed. He's getting too involved here and he cannot afford to.

He has to be smart about this.

He takes one last look at her and tells her he's sorry. He doesn't know if she understands, but it seems she can somehow sense the change in him because she retreats to her corner with her head bowed.

He reaches for the blanket and pulls it back through the bars feeling like the shittiest person that ever lived.

"Sorry kiddo."