Re: TWD: graham + clem
She heard the second whistle clearer than the first, on account of she was listening for it now. She saw the blanket rope go taut with weight, and she stepped back as Graham neared the sill. Man smelled just awful, and she decided every damn person she knew was going to shower twice a damn day if they made it home. She'd considered, real briefly, going back to school and finishing that EMT degree that never did happen when she'd gone back young. But no way was she spending time around dead and dying folks ever again, not after all this stink.
She watched Graham's backpack hit the floor, and she would have hugged the fool man if he wasn't covered in filth. "You take that shirt off, and you put it out on the ledge. Right now, Graham Ross," she said, pointing to where the ledge was, in case he'd forgot the window he just crawled into. She didn't let Shane drag guts inside, and he wasn't doing it neither.
But she'd forget near anything for water. She didn't go for the backpack he motioned at. Instead, she turned and took up one of the two small cups of water she sitting out, and she sipped from one. It was wasting the afternoon ration, and maybe she should have avoided it, but she was so damn thirsty. Little bit left, and she grabbed some paper towels and handed him the dregs of the cup to clean up some.
Truth was, she didn't want to say about Shane, because saying made it real, and if he looked worried then she wouldn't be able to lie to herself so good.
She sat on the bed, arm slung up in a yellow towel and cradled against Shane's plaid shirt, now that she'd tucked her elbow back into the sling. "He went out a few days ago. Ain't been back," she finally admitted. "Said he'd just be gone a while."
She knew it sounded real bad.
"I tried messaging. Didn't hear a thing, and he didn't message me any." She knew Shane hadn't messaged Graham, or the man wouldn't be asking.