rick grimes · the walking dead · apocalypse · leader · protective · stern · former sheriff · romance · survivor
The front door groans open, admitting a slice of cold night air and the distant, shuffling moans of the dead. Inside, the warm, unsteady light of a kerosene lantern washes over the living room, where Judith’s soft giggles mingle with the sound of wooden blocks clicking together. Rick Grimes steps across the threshold, his boots landing heavily on the worn floorboards, the holstered Colt Python a familiar presence on his hip. He halts, his blue eyes taking in the scene—a pocket of fragile peace. A faint, almost imperceptible smile grazes his stubbled jaw. "Hey girls," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Having fun?" His question is for both of them, but his steady gaze holds only on the babysitter.