The reason for the over time... was 2 chapters of bs...
~Loner
There was one thing everyone had to know about Arron: the man was rebellious. Period. One simply did not walk up to the man and start demanding things from him. He saw it as a challenge. The kind that he just had to defeat or the man would be left twitching for days (maybe, even months) before he forgot about it. There was a time and place for demands when it came to Arron, usually when the guy was high. So, it was really no surprise to those who knew him, that his reaction to Rick demands of keeping the 'ruckus' on the radio down was met with a rebellious action that really pissed the other man off.
Arron dead ass stared Rick in the eyes as he reached, ever so slowly, for the volume knob on the radio. The result of the sudden noise flooding the area they had pulled over in, startled even Daryl, who was trying to jury rig the RV. "Son of a bitch," Daryl shouted, clutching his head injury from the sudden jerk into the hood above him. "God, fucking damn it! ARRON!" He roared, feeling the throbbed pain turning into a headache. Because, who else could be the reason for his pain but Arron?
Arron scowled at Daryl's tone, then at Rick, before relenting and turning down the music.
"And, you," Daryl sneered, pointing at Rick, "get away from him, before you get us all killed." Daryl was so over this shit. Arron chuckled, turning away from the whole situation.
Glen was practically giggling at the whole situation. It was true Rick was better than Shane when it came down to leadership choices, but Rick could be a snob. Sometimes, Glen even wondered if Shane and Rick had contests to see whom was the biggest snob in the group (only to be defeated by Lori when she decided to make an appearance.
Speaking of Lori. "Carl!" a high pitch, panicked voice called out. "Has anyone seen Carl? Carl?"
"Ah, hah~" Glen whisper yelled to himself as he lifted the blanket in the back of the car he was digging through. "Come to daddy." Rough hands wrapped around the neck of a tequila bottle. One could always count on alcohol being in the back seat of someone's car. Movement in the corner of the man's eye had Glen jerking his head up, angled towards the window of the passenger side back seat.
Carl, the sneaky brat, lifted his index finger up over his mouth in a shushing motion. Ah, so the kid got tired of his mom's shit too, huh? Glen nodded and preceded to pretend the kid didn't exist as Carl wondered off to the next car, glazing inside with curiosity born from being a kid.
A few cars down, Glen heard the kid gasp in shock, practically tripping backwards to get away from the baby walker in the back seat of the car. Unfortunately, the gasp was loud enough to alert the mother who was looking down the space in-between the two cars a row over from him.
"CARL!" Lori shrieked, rushing to the sound. Of course, that shriek had everyone else rushing over too. Well, Glen looked back at Arron, who had at one point moved to Daryl's side again, fiddling with a piece of metal as he waited for the other man to finish up, almost everyone. Arron didn't seem to care one way or another. Even Daryl had paused what he was doing to grab his weapon of choice, the crossbow. Glen watched Daryl turn to Arron, say something that had the man sighing. Then, Arron straightened and followed Daryl to the outer edge of the circle, watching the commotion with bored eyes. Not for the first time, Glen wondered what was going on between the two.
T-dog made it to Lori and Carl first, despite Glen being closest. Unlike the kids mother, T-dog actually had an eye on the kid. He was watching as the kid went between the cars, checking handles, and digging though the cars that did open to him in a recklessness born from being a child. The black man made it a point to be a few cars down, trying to play as if he wasn't watching as he too dug for something useful. He noticed every time the kid found something of note, Carl would crouch further down and basically army crawl past his mother, sometimes going under cars to dodge the woman, and make a be line to Daryl and Arron's truck to lop it into the back. Arron, T-dog noted, left the boy alone, only moving to catch whatever the boy threw that didn't make it into the truck like the kid planned. It was a strange kind of set up they had going. Neither of the two said anything to each other, nor did either of them acknowledge the other. There was even a moment where Arron, who wasn't even facing the child, caught something the kid threw straight at him, then opened it and started eating it. It was such a strange sight that T-dog had to take a minute to rub his eyes. Yep, still happening.
"What happened, son?" Rick was saying, standing over the boy with a no nonsense expression.
"Nothing," Carl replied back, embarrassment coloring his voice and face. Stupid walker, the child complained mentally, scaring the fabjeezes out of me. Carl glared at the car window. It was a mini-van, the kid noted, of course, there would be children inside or, at least, at one point. Not for the first time, Carl agreed with Arron when the man said "fuck this new world" under his breath when he thought the kid wasn't listening. The new world was as scary as it was interesting.
And, of course, it was at that moment, almost as if it could hear Carl's thoughts, the hideous baby walker hand banged on the window, startling almost everyone, and rubbing the tiniest bloody hand print down the glass as it tried to gum its way through the barrier.
"Well," Carl heard Arron saying, "that's disturbing." Carl found himself agreeing to yet another of Arron's statements.
"Hey, Arron."
"Hm?" The man hummed, absently turning the page to the book he was reading.
The bushes next to the tent he was guarding rustled as Carl tried to slip his small body through the branches, sitting just out of eye sight of the main camp. Probably, hiding from his mom again, Arron thought absently as he glossed over words he had read a million times.
"What's a hick?" the boy asked, curiosity coloring his words.
Arron glanced up from 'Mind Assassin' to look at the boy for a moment. He could even hear Daryl, who was leaning on the other side of the tent wall directly behind him, pause to listen. "Where did you hear that?"
"Mom," the boy said like it explained all. In a way it did.
Arron breathed a sigh of amusement. "Did you ask your parents what it meant?"
"I asked dad."
"And? What did he say?"
"He said it was a mean word that mom shouldn't be using." Carl sighed in irritation, reaching up to mess up his hair in frustration. "But, he didn't say why it was bad!"
Arron laughed. "It's probably because he was embarrassed for your mother," Arron grinned at the boy.
"Embarrassed?" Carl asked, looking at the man from around his arms.
"Yes. Embarrassed."
"But why?" the boy frowned, dropping his arms down to his lap.
"Because calling someone a 'hick,' as your mom called it, and I'm assuming she was talking about Daryl and I, is racist towards Rednecks." Arron turned back to his book. "It means your mom is racist towards us." After a moment, Arron add, "Racist means you don't like someone because of their origin of birth." Just in case.
"Oh…." Carl went quiet for a moment, lost in thought. "Well, that's mean. I mean, you and Daryl are pretty cool. You guys teach me stuff and let me use your stuff."
Arron hummed, not really having a response to that statement.
"Hey, Arron?"
Arron sighed, giving up on reading the book and closing it. "Yes, Carl?"
"What does hick mean?"
Arron sighed, hearing Daryl's laugh behind him in the tent. "Go to sleep, Daryl. You got next watch." Ignoring the other man's huff, Arron turned to Carl. "Do you want the actual definition?"
"Yes, please~" the boy chirped.
Arron's blue eyes glazed over as he rubbed his chin, trying to remember a definition he googled (or was it Bing then?) so long ago. "It means…" he struggled to get the wording right, "a person who lives in the country, regarded as being unintelligent or provincial."
"So, mom called you guys stupid?"
"Pretty much."
"For being from the country?"
"From her perspective, yes."
"What is perspective?"
Arron sighed. This kid and his questions. "It means from her point of view."
"So, you're not from the country?"
Tch. "No, kid. Now, go to bed. Your annoying me."
"You know," Arron stated as the boy left his eye sight, knowing Daryl was still listening, "he kind of reminds me of you at that age. Always full of questions."
"shu' up," Daryl's grumbled voice came from the other side of the tent wall.
Arron could feel Daryl leaning his head back into the thin tent wall, leaning against his shoulder. Arron leaned his head against the lump that was Daryl's head. "Good night, love," Arron whispered, turning his head slightly to press his lips against the tent covered head. "I'll be here when you wake up," he promised