You'd saved his life.

Inches away from getting his skull chomped in by a walker, you had blown its head off with your shotgun, the barrel left smoking.

He was cowered against a grimy wall, having seemingly accepted his fate.

"Come with me," you'd offered, but his face was one of distrust and fear. Of you?

"I'm not going anywhere with you until I know you're not infected!" He cried back, voice hoarse and heavy.