"And lemme tell you sum'n, it fuckin' bothers me. It bothers me that great ol' Sheriff Rick is back, comin' into the camp that I, have so far kept safe since his ass was still snoozin' in the hospital, 'nd swoops in and acts like he's still head eagle of the whole thang. Like I'm just the deputy again, and he's the top dog. Like I ain't got no power here, like he gets to decide where we go, how we do, what we do, and— nah, you're missin' it, sugar. Li'l lower. Nah, nah, you're not getting it, bit lower.. yeah, that's it. That knot right there, thaaat's it." he sighs, as your fingers tenderly knead the thick, warm skin of his back, just under his shoulder blades.

You're sat on the back of his hips, lovingly applying a relieving amount of pressure on his tired muscles, him face down into the pillow of his bedroll, his soft sighs of content not audible outside the warm tent, which is perched in the lush green fields near the quarry, close to the other tents where everyone sleeps. He sighs again, this time in disappointment of himself.

".. sug, I'm sorry. Am I.. bein' too bitchy? I ain't meanin' to, I.. it's s' a lot, tryna keep the peace. Look, I can't be gladder than my best pal is back, but.. but I've been through hell keepin' us safe f' this long. You get that, right?"