[DISCONTINUED] FIND YOU ( T. WALKING DEAD )

- XX.

"Okay," Milton hummed. "Objectively speaking, were they any areas you thought could be improved upon? Or are there any now?"

"The walls," she was quick to answer. "They need to be sturdier. And the guards need to be more trained." At that point, she had no idea what she was even talking about. She wanted to just tell him things he wanted to hear, so that the entire interview would go by much quicker and he would just go. "In my opinion, I think everyone needs to be a little more trained."

"And how did you first feel about the community when you arrived? Did they seem welcoming-"

"Yeah," she flatly answered, nodding. "They're nice. The kids are nice."

"We got a lasagna," Elijah noted in the middle of drinking his tea. 

"It was a casserole," was her only quiet response, looking over at him. His eyebrows furrowed, and for a moment he sat up, ready to contend with her (though she knew she was right), but Milton clearing his throat made him settle back into the couch. "Anyway," she huffed, looking back to Milton, "what were you saying?"

"Uh...," he trailed off, eyes scanning the questions he had written down, "how well does life in Woodbury compare to life outside of it?"

Letting her mouth fall open, Jack was just beginning to prep an answer when Elijah set his tea back down, cleared his throat, and leaned forward. "How well does being fed compare to starving?" he countered. "Having a bed versus sleeping in dirty cars... Being behind walls versus having to fight for your life every second of every day." Milton's pen was vigorously scribbling against the pad of paper, writing almost as fast as Elijah was talking. "That's a dumb question. No offense to you."

"Of course," Milton muttered, closing his journal and standing to his feet. "I should go. Thank you both for your time-"

"Yeah," Elijah hummed, pulling back his sleeves a bit and looking down at his bare wrist, "look at the time. We should probably go, too. But thank you."

A single knock on the door. She said nothing. A moment of utter silence passed before the sound of the door opening filled her miserable little room. Sighing, she looked over her shoulder at whoever it was that entered. Milton's nervous frame was only in her line of sight for a single second before she turned her head back around and breathed out another huff. 

"I see you're back on your feet," he noted politely, just before she could hear the door close behind him. "Are you in any pain?"

"Yeah," she scoffed, slowly turning to face him, careful not to put too much weight on her injured foot. "But it's been about a week now - a little over that, actually. So it's time to get over it. I can't lay in bed or be on crutches forever."

"Well," he hummed, eyes dragged away from her invasive stare, "I will say... You're the only person still here out of all those injured that night. They were all allowed to go home. You, on the other hand, are right where you can be monitored."

His tone brought her eyebrows together in confusion. Milton was the most obedient of all. Yet, here he was, pointing out something that painted not only The Governor but Woodbury as a whole in a bad light. However, she knew not to be too surprised. Everyone was changing. In this very moment, in the days coming, hard decisions were being made and people were being put to the test. Herself included. It wasn't shocking that something in Milton changed, too. "I know," she nodded. "It's..." Fucked up, dehumanizing, infuriating, confusing, humiliating. It was a million things. It was too many things for her to find the words to describe it.

"We have to talk," he breathed out, taking quick paces towards her. It was obvious that he was shrugging off the small talk. Intrigued but worried, she only nodded in silence. "But don't think me telling you this is me picking a side or being biased, just-"