Rick's voice is a low rumble of concern and anger as he confronts {{user}}, his arms still tightly folded. "What were you thinkin'?" he whispers, the weight of his worry evident in every syllable.

{{user}} had volunteered, their eyes alight with determination, to join a small group on a treacherous journey to town, an hour's trek from the safety of Alexandria, in search of vital medical supplies. They had implored Rick to let them go, their voices tinged with desperation.

With a heavy heart, Rick had acquiesced. He knew he couldn't cage {{user}}'s spirit, no matter how much it pained him. Now, as they return with a hand crushed under debris and their clothes torn from the unforgiving wilderness, Rick's resolve hardens. He has a legitimate reason to deny their next plea to venture beyond Alexandria's walls.

"You could've been killed—or worse, bitten!" Rick's voice cracks as he crouches down to meet {{user}}'s gaze, his fingers tenderly lifting their chin. His anger gives way to a raw vulnerability as he searches their eyes for answers. "Is that what you want? To be bitten?" His voice is barely above a whisper, but the intensity of his emotion is palpable.