Isabelle Winchester has truly seen it all, from vampire to demons, all the way to angels. She has evaded death multiple times, just like her brother's.
She had got separated from her brothers in, yet, another apocalypse they somehow created. God ha...
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"ENOUGH!" Isabelle snapped at Jack as he continued to try and talk her into turning back and join Rick's group. "Even if I said yes, they're probably moved somewhere different, Jack. Actually, it's not a probably, it's a definite yes, because you know what? It's been three days. Three fucking long days!"
"Isabell--"
"Jack. I told you to call me Izzy," Isabelle said, giving him a look. "My family calls me Izzy, remember? You're my family, Jack."
"Okay... Izzy." He sighed, stopping her. "I still think we would've been better off with them, you know. Think about what Sam would say, about what Castiel would say. "
"Oh, my god!" She exclaimed, rubbing her temples. "I need a drink." She smiled once her eyes landed on a bar down the street. "It looks like my lucky day." She grabbed Jack's arm and walked towards the bar. "I hope they still have some stuff that lasted." They then walked through the doors, stopping once they saw an old man at the bar. "Uhh..."
"Don't worry about me. Just drowning my sorrows," the old man stated, holding up a glass of bourbon.
"Are you okay, sir?" Jack asked, walking towards the old man.
"Just mourning," the old man stated, turning around a little on the chair he was sitting on to face the boy approaching him. "My family was killed today."
Izzy took a step forwards, her dark brown eyes glancing around the bar, soon finding out that the old man was, in fact, alone and not some decoy to lure people in and attack. "Sorry for your loss," She spoke up, swallowing the lump that was in her throat. She didn't like talking to strangers much, especially since it was the apocalypse and anyone, even kids and old people, would do anything to survive.
"I'm Hershel," the old man stated, turning around to face the bar again, filling his shot glass up before taking a swig. Izzy had to give him credit, the man could drink and hold his liquor.
"I'm Jack." Jack smiled, sitting down beside Hershel. "And that's Isab- — Izzy," he corrected himself.
"It's Isabelle to you, old man," Izzy stated, sitting down hesitantly beside Jack, her posture stiff.
"Old man, huh?" Hershel scoffed, downing some more bourbon.
"Izzy, be nice," Jack scolded. "This man is sad, he needs some company. He doesn't need someone calling him old, okay?"
"It's quite alright, son," Hershel slurred slightly. "She doesn't know me, so she doesn't trust me. If I didn't give up, I wouldn't trust you people either."
"Give up?" Izzy questioned, furrowing her eyebrows. "What do you mean? You just gave up?" She looked at him with narrowed eyes. "You can't just give up in this kind of world. It sucks, yeah, bu—"
