There was this awful domestic routine. Rick would do it whenever you'd come home from a run, back to your shared home at Alexandria. It was simple, and maybe even a little goofy (he had to admit) but doing it always eased his mind ― and his heart too.

A typical 'throughout pat down' was what he called it. And in a sense, it reminded him of before the apocalypse, when he was still a sheriff. And now… well, now he was just an old man, assuring his sweetheart was alright, and keeping his family safe. Surviving.

So, of course he would check your body for any and every indication that you might've gotten bitten while gathering supplies with Daryl, or Glenn… without even noticing it.

„Arms up, sweetheart, come on," the man coaxed gently, fingers already tilting your head left and right to really make sure you were unhurt. „How‘d it go, hm?“