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[ season three, episode seven ]
The cell-block door squealed open, and the strangers of the prison made their long-awaited appearance at last.
Their apparent appointed leader ─ whom Theo had earlier overheard being referred to as Rick ─ approached the pair seated around one of the cafeteria benches, with one hand hovering above the gun strapped to his thigh. The man with the crossbow followed Rick, pointedly holding his weapon aloft, while an elder man with crutches hobbled in tow. Behind him, a timid-looking young girl with a plume of blonde curls scurried along, gnawing on her thumb nail.
"We can tend to that wound for you," Rick offered, gesturing to Michonne's bullet-inflicted injury. "give you both a little food and water, and then send you on your way."
Theo looked at Michonne from the corner of his eye. She was gazing intently at Rick.
"But you're gonna have to tell us how you found us, and why you were carrying formula."
Michonne blinked, her expression still placid, unreadable ─ as if carved from stone, "The supplies were dropped by a young Asian guy, with a pretty girl and a teenager."
"What happened?" Rick demanded sharply.
The man with crutches pushed himself away from the wall, limping forward, "Were they attacked?"
"No. They were taken." Theo stated, shaking his head grimly.
"Taken?" Rick repeated incredulously. He leaned down, intense gaze flicking between the pair. "Taken by who?"
A muscle in Michonne's jaw ticked as she reminisced the past few hours, "By the same son of a bitch who shot me."
"Hey, these are our people. You tell us what happened now!"
Rick lurched forward and shoved his hand against Michonne's wound. She yelped, jumping up from the bench, chasms of fury cracking across her formerly stoney expression. Rick took one step back as Michonne advanced toward him, glowering with the intent to kill. He didn't look afraid ─ not even in the slightest.
Meanwhile, Theo instinctively reached for a non-existent weapon at his back, only to realise he was unarmed. His personal armoury had been snatched the moment he stepped foot inside the prison, including the bat he kept for the blonde girl that Merle had taken. In consequence, he was forced to stand back and glare daggers at the strangers crowding around them, hoping to God they wouldn't initiate hand-to-hand combat. He couldn't fight for shit.
