"REALLY SPENCER, you punched him not once but twice" he judged. A matter of betrayal and dissatisfaction soon became evident on his face. After all he and his daughters had all informed her about the severity of her injuries but as always she deterred from their advice.
"Well, he had it coming" she defended.
"Was it really worth pulling multiple stitches?" he questioned.
"Small price to pay, you should have seen the look on his face" she claimed, Hershel gave a disapproving shake of his head as he continued to work on fixing her wound.
"Hershel at the end of the day he pissed-" before she could continue, Hershel abruptly intervened.
"Language!" he yelled out.
Damn Hershel could be scary. Is scary.
Noted, don't swear in front of Hershel.
"Oh shi-" She managed to stop herself just in time, as Hershel cocked an eyebrow up at her. "Oh sh-sugar I'm sorry" she finished; Hershel chuckled slightly at her lame attempts but appreciated it, nonetheless.
She noticed she was getting more comfortable at this place, but the lingering thought of her staying was still open for discussion.
She was drawn to this place, as if it were a magnetic field and she were the magnet.
But how could she stay? People had been nothing but wicked towards her, even before the apocalypse, she couldn't begin to trust them. She just couldn't.
"Well, you've ripped out 4 stitches" Hershel spoke again, interrupting her string of thoughts.
"Yeah, bloody feels like I did" she joked.
"Honey, you just need to rest and take it easy, think you can do that for me?" Hershel requested, she gave him a simple nod of her head
"Shall we check out your stomach whilst we're here?" he offered.
She smiled gratefully, and carefully rolled her shirt up, so he could see her battered body.
"Okay, it looks around the same." he paused for a moment, analyzing the bruises closely. "I don't think there's any internal bleeding, but I'd predict you have a few broken ribs unfortunately" he concluded seemingly upset.
