Re: TWD: graham + clem + shane
Clem was real sure she might die if Shane wasn't clean; man was wrong about that. It was silly as could be, but with everything wrong outside, keeping things tidy felt like humanity carrying over. Dumb as anything, but she wasn't inclined to question. All she knew was Shane was lying on the damn bed, and he was still filthy as could be. Graham didn't care any, but she didn't expect him to. That man would lie himself down on the same bed and not care if they were all swimming in guts.
Her life, it was real hard sometimes.
She rolled her eyes at Graham's dry correction. "Hurt wouldn't be near as impossible. Hurt men, they get whiny some. Every woman knows men can't handle pain well as we can, Graham." She said it while reaching for the dregs of not-clean water she'd made Graham use to clean up, and she made a face as she reclaimed the towel that served for her sling and dipped a clean corner in.
She took to wiping hard at Shane's face and the roots of his hair at his temples, figuring that damn man wouldn't even move from where he was on that bed. Tired, she figured, that was what he was, and she glanced some over her shoulder as Graham set to work on nailing shutters. "We can go come morning. Worse out there at night." Which Graham didn't need her to actually say, but sometimes her own voice was a real nice thing, especially with two men that liked not saying much. Heck, anything was better than the things working hard at splintering the door, and maybe she was winding down some, realizing dying might not happen today. Shaking hands, and she hadn't been so damn sure that morning.
"You going to say what the heck happened to you?" she asked Shane, real fussed about it.