TWD, Woodbury: Clem/Graham Who: Clem & Graham What: Woodbury Where: The apartment When: In-progress Warnings/Rating: None expected
After that prison cell in solitary, she reckoned Woodbury wasn't so bad, even if Graham and Shane were real put-out over having to hand over their weapons. But that made some sense to her way of thinking. There were families here, folks with kids, showers and roofs and something that felt like living had been before ending up in this hell with the dead folks walking. It wasn't surprising that these folks were real protective of it, and they didn't know the lot of them from a herd of dead things on the street. They'd come into town blazing, covered in blood and gore and armed to the teeth. She figured it was real nice they'd even been let stay, and she wasn't surprised a lick that the weapons couldn't come to the three-bedroom apartment that the Governor set them up with.
She showered first thing, washing off gore that was days old and letting the hot water run cold and not feeling even a little bit bad over it. Being in the prison hadn't broke her of all her habits, and she'd never worried a lick over hot water. The town's folks had sent over a pile of clothes that were clean, and she slipped on soft a-line skirt and baby-fine cami without protest, even if both items were plenty out of season. She took to drying her hair with a towel, and she peered into the bedroom she knew Graham was at. She'd seen him before she'd got in the shower, staring out the window all distrusting. "You think something's going to come in the window and kill us dead, sugar?"