Author's Note: Hello all! Bit of inspiration from SunnseanicArts' amazing efforts in the Walking Saints world, and of course my lovely avengingsuperlockian who continues to be a muse in these small little vignettes. Set before the group comes across the prison. Enjoy!
They had argued about it. Of course, they had. They argued at least once a day, everyday, for almost a year since they met shortly after the outbreak hit. They may share certain…features, but it didn't mean they were the same.
"We need t'go east. We ain't hit th' towns in that direction yet."
"What are ya? Fuckin' blind, ya Mick? Herd a walkers down the main highway. Ya wanna fuckin' kill yourself, ya go right ahead, but ya ain't takin' me with ya."
Connor shook his head from behind the wheel and sighed. It'd save gas if you all went together, they said. Everyone was running on empty. Daryl's bike took less gas, but he couldn't carry much. Connor volunteered to help and, much to Daryl's joy, that meant Murphy came too. The brothers never went anywhere without one another, especially these days.
"Connor! Tell th' inbred hick that it's a good fuckin' plan!" Murphy yelled, kicking the back of his brother's seat. (They'd argued about that too.)
The two continued to bicker about what route to take, and he just couldn't take it anymore.
"Shut th' fuck up, th' both of ye, or I'm gonna turn this car 'round right th' fuck now!"