#🅹🆄🅻🆈🅾🅵🆃🅷🅴🅳🅴🅰🅳 (COMPLETED)

Round 27

Welcome back!

You have picked option A to help the poor straggler on the side of the road; So let's dive back into it.

The King eases his foot off the accelerator, watching the filthy bystander shamble their way to the side of the road. Driving to the right before parking the van a good hundred meters before the survivor. "We're going to come to this person's assistance." Ezekiel announces to the group, scanning his eyes from one individual to the next. "If anyone has anything to say, speak now, or forever hold your peace."

Everyone nods in consent, apart from Shane, who rolls his eyes, but throws his arms up in defeat. Negan can't believe what's happening, and chooses to pipe up, putting his two cents in on the matter. "There is something creepy as shit about this person, guys! I mean, it's only been a month since the infection spread, and they looks like they're straight out of a fuckin' Charles Dickens novel." He bangs his Lucille against the back window when everyone chooses to ignore his protests. "No, Sir! You may fucking NOT have some more! Best be on your way!"

Gertrude's cheeks flush as she vents her frustrations at the leather-clad, pain in her ass! "Haven't you got a heart, dick? This survivor has obviously gone through hell, has had to approach a group by themself, knowing the dangers!" Her eyes almost bug out of her head as she watches the coach play with the barbed edges of his weapon. She shrieks, "Sweet Lord! I'd love to leave you by the side of the road. You would not be missed, I can tell ya that much for free!" The party girl's index finger waggles at Negan, the ultimate "for shame" gesture she could muster. "Now shut your goddamn mouth before I shove that precious baseball bat up where the sun does NOT shine, got it?"

The coaches' teeth grind together, unaccustomed to such blatant disrespect. Usually, he'd be more than happy to engage in the back and forth, show her who's boss, but he's pulled back to his Glenn, coughing and tugging at Negan's jacket.

"Settle, dumbass." The Korean chides, smiling from ear to ear, some of his usual hue slowly returning. The massive bulk of medicine and regular dressing changes fills Glenn with hope, the fever loosening its grip on him. I might get through this afterall!

The eldest hillbilly wraps an arm around his girl and pulls her on his lap, whispering to Gertrude, "is it just me, or are you hot under the collar too?"

The girl giggles, breathing away her previous frustration and burying her hands in his short, curly hair. "I'm way past that, hot stuff!"

Jerry is too close to this display. He awkwardly chuckles while scooting further away from them on the bench seat, averting his gaze.

The King bares his teeth, in a completely fabricated smile before announcing, "then it is settled!" He puts the van back into drive and travels the short distance to bridge the gap between them and the survivor. As they pull up, they realize that it isn't a man after all, but a woman. She has her greasy hair tied back into a short bun, her clothes all tattered and worn.

In the short period of time since the outbreak, it's obvious that she has aged. Her skin is caked in blood, mud and a vast array of debris. It's unfortunate, because under the thick of it and her oversized business blazer, she has delicate features, slightly upturned nose and earthen-green eyes, stained red with grief. "Tthhhank you for stopping." Her voice is faint, but her Irish accent can still be recognized. "I thought no one was ever going to drive passed here again."

"Good tidings, young lady!" The King's voice is confident and clear, but he looks somber, saddened that this was the reality for some humans now. "How may we be of assistance?" The hospitable humanitarian fishes a bottle of water out of his bag, as she perches herself on the side step of the vehicle, gulping down the contents in a matter of seconds.

After the worn woman catches her breath, she whispers, "it's my husband."

"Ahhh, here we go," Negan says, shaking his head as the rest of the van throw him all sorts of evils.

The poor girl's brows furrows. "Hhhe's sick, and I'm not strong enough to carry him. He's in no condition to walk, and I can't just leave him there!" She weeps, burying her face in her hands.

Daryl swings himself out of his chair and nods at her. "What do ye need us to do?"

A small smile plays on her lips, looking toward the redneck. "Would you help me carry him here? I'd be forever in your debt!" Some life returns in her voice, her tears starting afresh.

"I will." Daryl agrees, and exits the vehicle.

"Wait, wait, wait, baby brother!" Merls hollers, awkwardly shuffling himself from underneath his squeeze. "We should go with ye, just in case."

"No, please!" The emaciated girl protests, pleading with the youngest Dixon. "He's a proud man and I can't have all these strangers come and help, it'll crush him!"

Negan and Shane sigh, awestruck at this display of kindness and their hackles rising involuntarily. This was yet another risk, even if the woman looks famished and weak, who knows what dangers lurk.

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OPTION A:  Daryl should go and help her. The girl's been through enough! Why subject her to any more turmoil?

OPTION B:  I'm with Negan and Shane! There's something not quite right about her. We'll go as a group just in case she gets some ideas

Vote in an inline comment for the option you'd prefer to happen.

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Chillout

What would your signature look be if you were in the world of The Walking Dead?

Everybody knows you need a little something to set yourself apart from the crowd, make you recognizable, look bad-ass, and most importantly...memorable.

Negan has his Jacket, The Governor had his eyepatch, Rick had his police uniform, Michonne has her dreads, Eugene has his mullet.

What would you have to stand out against the dead and let your personality shine through?