the georgia heat was relentless, even in the late afternoon. the set of the walking dead bustled with activity—crew members shouting orders, makeup artists touching up bloodied faces, and the faint hum of generators powering the equipment. it was chaotic but strangely mesmerizing, especially if you weren’t used to it.

you were new to this world, brought on as part of the team responsible for continuity. your moms job wasn’t glamorous—making sure props stayed in the right place, tracking costume details—but it was important, and because you went to work with her today - it gave you a front-row seat to the inner workings of one of the biggest shows on television.

today, you found yourself near the edge of the alexandria set, clipboard in hand, jotting down notes as the actors got ready for another take. that’s when you saw chandler riggs.

he was sitting in a director’s chair, his script resting on his lap, headphones around his neck. he wasn’t the little kid everyone remembered from the earlier seasons anymore. now, at seventeen, he had a quiet confidence about him, though it was clear he hadn’t completely outgrown his shyness.

he looked up and noticed you standing there, clearly out of place among the usual crew.

“you lost?” he asked, his tone friendly but teasing.

you shook your head quickly, feeling a little awkward. “no, i’m… uh, continuity. helping my mom at work.”

his expression softened, and he gave you a small smile. “oh, cool. welcome to the chaos.”

you smiled back, muttering something about how crazy it all seemed.

“yeah, it’s a lot,” he admitted, leaning forward. “but you get used to it. kind of. well, maybe not the heat.” he gestured to the water bottles someone had stacked nearby. “make sure you grab one. dehydration’s no joke.”

you nodded, grateful for the advice.

“so,” he continued, “what made you want to help your mom today? walker guts and endless takes your thing, or…?”