betterangels: (#8589777)
rick grimes. ([personal profile] betterangels) wrote in [community profile] ataraxionlogs 2015-01-08 07:52 am (UTC)

POLITE

[ The arm coming up isn't enough to keep Rick from bearing down, angling his arm so that he might press it firm against the metal and bring back his other fist with every intent to break its face, and maybe then holler for help in dispatching it. Fear and rage have resolved into something colder and clinical and diligent, fast as that.

But it's the grip to his wrist that throws him off, makes him go tharn, too sure and defensive to be the usual clammily cold grabs of a walker. His own pale eyes flash, meeting its stare again in time for it to speak. One syllable. Then more of 'em.

Rick doesn't let up, even so, deadly suspicious and ever so slightly unhinged. Studying its face unblinking. His face. There is necrotic grey staining his mouth, and Kieren's hand at Rick's arm only inspires the older man to press back, fist still ready as the only weapon in his arsenal.]


What are you?

[ Safe is not good enough. His voice is low and brooks no fucking around. The terrycloth robe he's bundled into probably takes away a little from his demeanour, possibly, bare feet set splayed on the smooth floor, hearing and seeing nothing outside of the walker he's got pinned besides white noise, a whine, blur. ]

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