His worry only grows, when he sees Clem's expression. He fingers grip his arm and the intensity of it does little to soothe his worries. Something awful had to have happened- for Clem to act like that. He's about to voice those concerns when Clem speaks- when she drops that bomb on him. He remembers the outrider and...oh.
His eyes widen, pushing the sheet Michonne put on him off, to stare at his chest. Wounds healed, but clothes still torn and bloodstained. The horrible reality of it all sinks in- he died. He fucking died. He knew people came back here, and now he has horrible, solid proof of it. Then another terrible realisation strikes home and a hand shoots up to his head, there's no wound there, but he can feel the dried blood in his locs. Fuck.
He turns to look at her again, and he knows- he knows what she had to do and it drives a horrible splinter into his heart. To see her look so goddamn tired and broken... he hates seeing her like that, knowing he caused it. He struggles to find words for her. You can't really say 'sorry you had to put me down when I came back as an undead nightmare'. You really can't say that. He wants to ask if she's okay, but she blatantly is not.
He moves closer, to hug her- he doesn't crowd her though. He doesn't know if she even wants that- if he's so thoroughly fucked it up that she'd want nothing to do with him any more. But the offer is there, some sort of comfort. He wishes he could tell her he's sorry...but that would be a lie. He's sorry she's hurting, but he's not sorry for what he did. He can never be sorry for that.
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His eyes widen, pushing the sheet Michonne put on him off, to stare at his chest. Wounds healed, but clothes still torn and bloodstained. The horrible reality of it all sinks in- he died. He fucking died. He knew people came back here, and now he has horrible, solid proof of it. Then another terrible realisation strikes home and a hand shoots up to his head, there's no wound there, but he can feel the dried blood in his locs. Fuck.
He turns to look at her again, and he knows- he knows what she had to do and it drives a horrible splinter into his heart. To see her look so goddamn tired and broken... he hates seeing her like that, knowing he caused it. He struggles to find words for her. You can't really say 'sorry you had to put me down when I came back as an undead nightmare'. You really can't say that. He wants to ask if she's okay, but she blatantly is not.
He moves closer, to hug her- he doesn't crowd her though. He doesn't know if she even wants that- if he's so thoroughly fucked it up that she'd want nothing to do with him any more. But the offer is there, some sort of comfort. He wishes he could tell her he's sorry...but that would be a lie. He's sorry she's hurting, but he's not sorry for what he did. He can never be sorry for that.