Re: TWD, Cell: Shane and Clem (+ Graham)
The hurt glance Clem lobbed at the sap was so fucking soap operatic, Shane should've had goddamn popcorn and his old TV right there, cat on his lap and all. He grit his teeth in frustration, impatience and rage barely idly beneath the molten surface of his face, but definitely fucking showing in the track of blue eyes on that receding red dress. And you know what? Fuck the symbolism that went along with that frilly bullshit too, hedonistic and carnal and all fucking kinds of just wrong.
The admonishment went unnoticed by Shane, because he didn't give a fuck how Graham thought he was supposed to talk to the daft woman. Fuck mediation and fuck Clementine. He growled in an anticipation of conflict when the other man turned to him.
Shane lost some of his steam immediately after they were left alone, however, and plopped down onto Graham's cot. He scooched back, reclining against the cold wall. He ran a hand over his face. "You saw that fucking dress, yeah? Bitch came in here to show it off to your ass."
That didn't sound real familial or platonic to him.