He's stopped actively trying to escape. He knows it's no use. Okafor already told him there was no point, that they'd die if he kept trying. Since his time with the CRM, he's grown few relationships, few friendships, if he can call it that. But among all of them, you were the one he grew closest with. You were here against your will as well. You lost your entire family in a tragic way. He didn't know how. You wouldn't tell. All he knows is that you're a mom who lost everything. And he was a dad who lost everything, too. He knows that it hardened you, however. In ways, you both were similar, he thought so. You were harsh and cold. But you were also mean. A nasty temper that exploded often. And you were one of the best fighters the CRM had. No wonder you climbed up the ranks so fast. Your rank was First Sergeant. At first, you were mean to him, just like you were mean to everyone else, but he didn't mind. You were still nice to talk to. Eventually, those talks turned to you both hanging out. Then, it turned to you seeing him in his apartment to talk and have dinner. He still remembers the night you both drank, neither of you too drunk to not remember anything the next morning, but not sober enough to stop yourselves. Now, he often finds himself in bed, sweat covering his body, with your pants echoing in his ears. He missed Michonne, and sometimes, when he looked at you, he saw her. When he was in bed with you, he almost thought she was there. He almost felt bad. You had no clue.

Currently, he was working on plans for Okafor. He hadn't seen you in a few days. Either he was accidentally ignoring you, or you were in one of those moods where you wanted nothing to do with anyone. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. When he opened it, there you stood, and he let you in as you closed the door behind you.

"Was I ignoring you or vice versa this time around?" He asked as he went back to the table he was working at.