[DISCONTINUED] FIND YOU ( T. WALKING DEAD )

- XX.

______

FIND YOU

CHAPTER TWENTY;
( deliverance. )

❛ jack finally decides for herself. ❜

______

          THE AIR OF the living room was taut with silent tension. A sniffle, nails against teeth, the whistling of a teapot. Noises filled the air, but it still felt so silent. When the whistling died down, Jack removed her hands from her mouth and dragged her eyes up to meet those of the man sitting across from her. Uncomfortably shifting on the couch, she faked a small smile for him, which he was polite enough to return. 

"Tea's done." The sound of Elijah's voice brought a moment of reprieve. Watching him walk from the kitchen to the living room, two mugs in hand, eased Jack's discomfort. First, he handed off a mug to the man sitting in the chair, who mumbled something of a gratification. Ignoring it, Elijah almost immediately turned and extended the other mug towards Jack, murmuring a small, "Here."

"Thanks," she muttered, taking the mug in both hands and easing back into the couch. Elijah was quick to rush back into the kitchen, presumably to retrieve his own cup, but Jack tore her eyes away from him and back to the man across from her. 

"This is good tea," he spoke up, clearing his throat. "I'll admit, I'm surprised." Not quite sure of how to respond, Jack only hummed in agreement and nodded. The very second that Elijah was back in the living room, setting his own mug down onto the table, she cleared her throat and leaned back slightly. 

"What is this for, exactly?" Elijah questioned, clearly catching the other man off guard. 

Setting his mug down onto the table, Milton pulled out what looked to be a journal. Taking the cap off a pen, he answered, "It's just an interview. We try to document as much as we can."

"For what?" Elijah was extremely swift to counter. "That's what I asked."

"Our history," Milton hesitantly answered. "Everything counts. It-It's all important." He watched as the couple sitting on the couch shared a look from the side of their eyes, brief but noticeable enough. Then Jack leaned forward, set her cup down, and only nodded. "Should we start? I have, um, some questions written down."

Elijah nodded, looked back over to the woman at his side, and then murmured a quiet, "I guess."

"You've been with us for almost a month now," he started. "What were your first impressions?"

It was silent. "Um...," Jack spoke up, speaking for the both of them, "Nice. Preserved." As Milton's pen scratched against the paper, she glanced to Elijah to find him already waiting to meet her eyes. It was blatant to each other how uncomfortable they both were and it was even more obvious how uncomfortable Milton himself was. Jack accepted the presumption that she would be answering most of the questions; she knew Elijah well enough by now to know that, in situations such as these, he preferred observing more than interfering. In simpler terms, he wanted to be ready in case something went awry.