[She's not too worried, mostly because it's easy not to worry when you're kind of concussed and also out of the reach of the walkers shambling around beneath you. It's been a weird night.]
[ Yeah--once Joel locates her, he isn't too worried either. She might be surrounded by walkers down there, but that's good; if her fuss has accomplished anything, it's the fact that bringing all the walkers in one area means it's easier to mow them down.
Which Joel does, with a metal pipe and a knife. No need to waste bullets on a relatively easy case. (Too bad walkers don't do much running.)
He reeks of dead flesh and blood now, but that's par for the course. Joel looks up at the small opening of the treehouse, strapping the pipe back onto his bag. ]
[She pokes her head out the treehouse door, over the edge of the splintery old floorboards. Blood--hers and walkers', mostly theirs--has dried in lines and spatters on her face, but otherwise, she's not in terrible shape. Carefully, limbs a little wobbly, she starts to swing her legs out so she can clamber down.]
My dad always said you shouldn't go to sleep if you hit your head. [A pause.] Or if something hit you, I guess.
[ Seeing the way Beth moves, Joel reaches out to keep her steady and bring her down. Seeing the wound on her head, though, he clicks his tongue, thumb brushing over it. ]
Concussion? [ Not that he has to ask. It's time to bring Beth home, which is why Joel gets down and turns his back to her. ] C'mon.
[Admittedly, she's not sure he'd be especially happy about her having to use that information but the fact that she survived probably counts for something.
She flinches a little when Joel touches her scalp. Even light pressure is painful at the moment, tempting though it's been to prod at the injury.
It's with a distant sort of interest--like she's seeing all this happen to somebody else--that she watches him then. If it didn't hurt to frown, her brows would be furrowed together. Is he offering her a piggyback ride?]
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bakerstreet2017-05-12 07:18 am
beth greene | the walking dead
2. TO WHOEVER LEFT A THONG ON THE DINING ROOM TABLE:
1. that's gross
2. please remove it
3. i want tt clbm rinabw nd ride uncrn
4. he bedazzled a shirt for me that said "best head giver" should i be thankful for the gift or jealous that he has a bedazzler?????
5. somebody baked a pizza and it smells like heaven's raining canned tomato paste
6. [text beth.]
3
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Are you alone?
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m ok
soutsdr alxndrai
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I'm on my way. Don't move.
[ He assumes Beth is in the residential area the group ultimately avoided. Joel really hopes he's right. ]
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[She's not too worried, mostly because it's easy not to worry when you're kind of concussed and also out of the reach of the walkers shambling around beneath you. It's been a weird night.]
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Which Joel does, with a metal pipe and a knife. No need to waste bullets on a relatively easy case. (Too bad walkers don't do much running.)
He reeks of dead flesh and blood now, but that's par for the course. Joel looks up at the small opening of the treehouse, strapping the pipe back onto his bag. ]
Beth. You awake?
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[She pokes her head out the treehouse door, over the edge of the splintery old floorboards. Blood--hers and walkers', mostly theirs--has dried in lines and spatters on her face, but otherwise, she's not in terrible shape. Carefully, limbs a little wobbly, she starts to swing her legs out so she can clamber down.]
My dad always said you shouldn't go to sleep if you hit your head. [A pause.] Or if something hit you, I guess.
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[ Seeing the way Beth moves, Joel reaches out to keep her steady and bring her down. Seeing the wound on her head, though, he clicks his tongue, thumb brushing over it. ]
Concussion? [ Not that he has to ask. It's time to bring Beth home, which is why Joel gets down and turns his back to her. ] C'mon.
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[Admittedly, she's not sure he'd be especially happy about her having to use that information but the fact that she survived probably counts for something.
She flinches a little when Joel touches her scalp. Even light pressure is painful at the moment, tempting though it's been to prod at the injury.
It's with a distant sort of interest--like she's seeing all this happen to somebody else--that she watches him then. If it didn't hurt to frown, her brows would be furrowed together. Is he offering her a piggyback ride?]
I can walk.
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