𝒍𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒂 ➶ [ s. walsh ]

v. | ❝ you can file a complaint. ❞

LOLITA.
v. | ❝ you can file a complaint. ❞

✧

"THERE WAS A... There was a problem in Atlanta," Shane began, raking a hand through his tousled curls as he approached the redneck.

"He dead?" Daryl reached up to rub his stubbled chin absentmindedly, his cerulean orbs following every move the dark-haired sheriff's deputy made.

"We're not sure."

"He either is, or he ain't!"

"No easy way to say this, so I'll just say it," Rick interrupted, stepping between the two men.

"Who are you?" Daryl asked, his facial expression both that of curiosity and vexation.

"Rick Grimes."

"Rick Grimes," Daryl mimicked, clearly getting more and more agitated with every moment that passed. "You got somethin' you wanna tell me?"

There was a brief moment of silence as the rest of the group looked on, wondering if Rick would be able to handle the situation. Meanwhile, Cassandra had hitched herself up onto a nearby picnic-bench, her eyes narrowed as she watched the scene unfold before her.

"Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal," Rick explained. "He's still there."

A low chuckle escaped Daryl's lips as he shook his head, taking a couple of steps backwards. "Hold on. Let me process this," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof.... And you left him there?!"

There was a brief moment of silence, before Rick responded quietly; "Yeah."

Everything seemed to happen at once. Daryl ran at Rick, yelling obscenities as he drew a small knife from his belt. Both Shane and Rick sprang into action - just like it used to be, when they were partners trying to uphold the law - with the blue-eyed sheriff grabbing the redneck's wrist and twisting it slightly, forcing him to release the dagger, and his dark-haired deputy wrestling him to the ground.

"You best let me go!" Daryl exclaimed, thrashing against Shane's broad frame.

Shane exhaled, pressing his toned forearm against the redneck's throat. "Nah, I think it's better if I don't."

"Choke-hold's illegal!" he protested.

"You can file a complaint," came the dark-eyed sheriff's deputy's dry retort as Rick moved close to them and dropped down on one knee, his gaze trained on Daryl.

"I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic," he stated, composed and authoritative as he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Do you think we can manage that?" There was a pause as Daryl continued struggling against Shane's firm grip, before Rick repeated his previous question. "Do you think we can manage that?"

"Mmh. Yeah." Daryl's response was gruff and reluctant, but after a curt nod from Rick, Shane released the redneck and got to his feet, heading back towards his tent.

A scowl flitted across Cassandra's pretty features as she followed her curly-haired bunking buddy's retreating back with her gaze. The strawberry blonde stood up, half-jogging after him. "Shane!"

"Oh, Christ," he muttered, stopping in his tracks and turning around sharply. "Can't I even get five minutes alone in this place?"

Cassandra ignored his bitter tone and simply folded her arms, her chin raised in a defiant manner. "What was that back there?" she asked, her tone cold and sharp as she looked him dead in the eye.

"Seriously?" Shane let out a low, rumbling laugh, shaking his head. "We ain't havin' this conversation now, girl."

"The guy's brother has been left for dead in a city full of fucking- Fucking zombies! Give him a break!" Although she'd heard a few things about Merle from the likes of Amy and Lori - namely that he was a selfish, racist, perverted son of a bitch - Cassandra had tried putting herself in Daryl's position. She had an older sister of her own back in England, and the mere of thought of someone abandoning her at the hands of those flesh-eating monsters made the redhead's blood boil.

"Look," Shane replied, his eyes flashing like a pair of onyx set in chiselled marble. "Merle Dixon is a complete douchebag. The guy wouldn't give you a glass of water if you were dyin' of thirst!" He took a step closer towards Cassandra, a furrow at his brow. "And I don't really see how it's any of your concern, anyway."

Her cheeks flamed as she straightened up, pulling her shoulders back slightly. "Really? Well.... Let's just hope you don't end up in the same position as him someday, then." With that, she turned on her heel and slinked away with a toss of her coppery curls and a sneer playing at her lips.

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