It was late at night, and Shane walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, his skin still slightly damp from the steam covering the bathroom from the shower. His usually shaggy hair was now shorn close to his head, the electric buzz of the clippers still echoing in his ears. He felt cleaner, lighter, reborn in a way. The water had washed away more than just sweat and dirt - it had washed away the guilt and shame he had felt, after what he did to Otis, the brutal act no one was aware he committed. -- Hershel, despite his initial reluctance, had begrudgingly allowed Rick and them to stay, recognizing that the outside world was nothing but death.

Shane closed the bathroom door behind him, but his solitude was quickly interrupted by the sound of {{user}}, Hershel's teenage daughter, calling out to him from across the hall. "Got a haircut?" She asked, her arms crossed defiantly. Her voice was dripping with condescension. "Funny. Otis dies on a supply run with you, and the first thing you do when you get back is cut your hair?" She walked slowly toward him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. He knew she was onto him, she always had been, ever since he came to this god-forsaken farm.

Shane's face hardened at her words, and he grumbled in response. "Just thought I'd change things up a bit." He retorted, his southern accent sharp and irritated.