𝒍𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒂 ➶ [ s. walsh ]

ii. | ❝ it ain't appropriate. ❞

LOLITA.
ii. | ❝ it ain't appropriate. ❞

✧

"I'M NOT SLEEPING on my own, Shane," Cassandra stated bluntly, folding her arms and shooting him a challenging look.

Her saviour was, safe to say, frustrated by the demanding, bratty tendencies of his new charge. They had briefly exchanged names on their way back to the make-shift camp, in which there was only a handful of survivors - although a few had gone on a supply run in Atlanta - and since then, the pretty young redhead had decided to make the dark-eyed sheriff's deputy her nanny of sorts.

"Where else you gonna sleep?" he snapped, throwing the half-erected tent poles down in a somewhat embittered fashion. "I told you, all the other tents are full."

"Who do you share with, then?" She cocked an eyebrow, her lips pursed in an almost sultry fashion.

Shane blinked, slightly taken aback. "Well, I have my own tent, but-"

"Then I intend to sleep in there," she informed him breezily, flashing him a disarming smile.

He grimaced, straightening up and folding his arms. "You sure that's a good idea, girl?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" she asked, her tone almost teasing as she tilted her head, observing him carefully.

"It ain't appropriate," Shane told her with a shrug, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "I'm a grown man, and you're a lot younger than me-"

Cassandra cut him off with a laugh. "Oh God, Shane. You don't seriously think we'd...?" Another scoff left her plump, rosy lips as she shook her head. "Look, I just don't want to be alone. You're probably my best chance of survival when it comes to those.... Walkers. Whatever. I just want to feel safe."

He breathed out a sigh, tucking his thumbs in the belt-loops of his trousers. "Since you put it like that-" he began, but was interrupted by the sound of a blaring siren growing closer to the camp. His eyes darkened in concern and he picked up his rifle from the ground, half-jogging towards a nearby RV with Cassandra in hot pursuit. "Talk to me, Dale!" he called to the elderly bearded man standing on top of the vehicle.

Dale peered through his binoculars, before letting out a chuckle. "Well, I'll be damned," he replied. "It looks like a stolen car."

Within minutes, a flash red sports car skidded to a halt just a few feet away from the crowd of agitated survivors, and a young Asian man wearing a baseball cap jumped out of it, pumping his fist and whooping.

"Are you crazy, driving this wailing bastard all the way up here?!" Shane demanded, storming towards the car and yanking the bonnet open. "You tryna attract every walker this side of Georgia?" The alarm was cut off sharply as Shane rummaged around inside the gaping hood of the vehicle, a scowl contorting his handsome features.

"It's okay," Dale interrupted, noticing that Shane was about to challenge the newcomer, Glenn, yet again. "That siren was echoing all 'round these mountains.... It would be difficult to pinpoint the direct source."

Instead of giving Glenn an earful, however, the dark-haired sheriff's deputy turned to Dale, a look of complete fury on his countenance. "You call bein' stupid 'okay'?"

"Look, I'm not taking sides," Dale replied, raising his hands and shaking his head slightly, before allowing his gaze to swivel back towards Glenn. "But it wouldn't hurt for you to think things through a little more carefully, next time!"

"Sorry." Glenn smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "We, uh.... Got a cool car...."

The group's attention was diverted as a large white lorry pulled up a short distance behind the car, and a cluster of people got out. Suddenly, Cassandra found herself surrounded by embracing figures and tear-stained faces. All in all, she was left feeling rather out of it.

That is, until the large, coarse hand of her dark-eyed bunking buddy came to rest on her shoulder in an almost reassuring fashion. "You alright, girl?" he inquired gruffly, a furrow at his brow.

Before the strawberry blonde beauty had time to respond, however, a voice called towards the lorry. "Hey, Helicopter Boy! Come meet everyone."

Shane's hand slid from the pretty young girl's shoulder and fell limply at his side as his gaze met that of the newcomer.

Clad in a sheriff's uniform, with stubble gracing his cheeks and a look of complete disbelief filling his glimmering cobalt-blue eyes, stood Shane Walsh's best friend and the husband of his most recent one-night stand: Rick Grimes.

⠀༚⠀⠀༷⠀⠀ྃ