Vantage Points [semi-open]

[shiftingurbulls]

Who| Ellis and the Walking Dead group or anyone who passes by
What| Meeting fellow zombie-apocalypse survivors
Where| Around the caves and glaciers
When| Week 3 before the Guido Suit massacre
Warnings/Notes| Language, talk of Gore...usual business

Ellis had to admit, the sponsors were kind to him to get him all warmed up and armed. Granted it wasn't a rifle like Nick and it was terribly lonely to wait for him to come back from whatever he was doing. He'd told the man to rest for a day in their cave, there wasn't that much need to hunt or defend themselves. Nick, this isn't Georgia, we don't have medkits lying around for us to find. Lay down an' recover, okay? But like hell Suits listened to him. He barely did back home!

Beth implied there were more survivors out there from his home state (halleluyah!) and Ellis knew that as soon as Lt. Raine gained a weapon, he'd be more than fine on his own. So the mechanic grabbed the nearest rock and scratched on the wall a message for Nick to find if the gambler came back before he did:

"LEFT FOR SUPPLIES, BE BACK SOON."

With that, bundled up and the small pocket knife on tow, Ellis set out to explore the Arena again now that the cats were gone.


A. Cave Story

The caves around this land had proven to be a challenge for the ever-curious man to explore and forage in. There was evidence of other people living in there, more experienced Tributes in the art of putting the best and bloodiest show the Capitol could see. All El could get out of these were scraps he could either consume or build trinkets to beat the boredom. Every time the mechanic ran into a campsite, he'd slow down his paces, avoid making unnecessary sounds as to not cause a fight. For all his boisterous acting, survival usually trumped his itch to say hello to anyone he met. Not everyone was as friendly as he was, Nick reminded him so many times back home.

"Hello?" Ellis called out inside, making sure he was close enough to the exit to make a quick getaway. Anyone returning his greeting would see him raise his weapon first before he relaxed.


B. Self-Imposed Challenge

"Okay, tha's impressive," El whispered under his breath as he admired the glacial majesty before him. He felt so tiny and insignificant against the massive structure. Naturally, he said to himself, "I'm gonna climb it." How he survived the Green Flu outbreak is sometimes a mystery. The thing about glaciers is the sheer difficulty that comes with trying to get footing without the proper shoe wear as the mechanic soon found out after a few unsuccessful tries at crossing the river to get to it. "Fuckin' hell," he hissed under his breath before giving up, "Coulda made for a good vantage point."

So the next best thing were the trees, something he had more experience in. It was how he kept whatever meager supplies he could find safe from any slippery hands. He was young and flexible enough to make his way up the branches. Anyone looking up will see a grinning idiot ready to say hello or pounce and get their supplies then disappear into the wilderness if they proved to be untrustworthy. Though Ellis had a fatal flaw in his plan: he wouldn't kill the target. These were thinking people, and he refused to commit murder.

Comments

[rictator]

Rick shook his head, his brow furrowed. He knew Daryl had things covered if this all went south, but it wasn't the present that was concerning him.

"I never said we didn't."

It was as close as he could bring himself to admitting they had the means to help. Vague answers, leaving a lot to the imagination; when it came down to protecting his family, to protecting what they had, no amount of precautions would ever feel like enough. Particularly when it came to something as precious as medical supplies. The way he saw it, whether he conceded or not, there was a strong chance he would come to regret his decision. He didn't know this person. What was to say that if they did help, him and his friend wouldn't come back for a second helping later? Perhaps when it was only Beth? When they were preoccupied?

Their own world had made him entirely too adept at finding the worst case scenarios, his mind automatically leaping to the best way to prevent them. While the upstanding, moral sheriff from King County may have survived the worst of what life had to throw at him, it had left that once limitless generosity crippled; when it came time to extend his hand now, he couldn't help but wonder about the inevitable catch. In truth, there would never be a perfectly safe route. There was no way of knowing anyone's true nature, not for sure, and that was a risk they would always have to take.

That was just part of being a leader.

"Look, you answer my questions." There was an underlying threat to his words, his head tilting slightly as he looked him over, subtly gesturing for Daryl to close some of the distance. Even if Ellis noticed him now, he wasn't going anywhere without one of them putting a stop to it. "We'll see about the rest. You ever kill anybody before all this?"

[weaintashes]

The three questions Rick had devised back home might seem arbitrary, but they served a vital purpose when getting a feel for strangers. It wasn't so much about what their answers were, but the way in which they answered; thus far, it had been a surprisingly effective way to quickly judge the character of someone.

Ellis wasn't being questioned as a prelude to being allowed to join their group, but that didn't permit him any additional leeway in his answers, which became apparent to Daryl when Rick signaled for him to move in. He did so, continuing to take all due care in keeping his steps silent to maintain the element of surprise. Within another couple steps or so he could either bring his knife around to press to Ellis's throat, or kick his legs out from under him — or, ideally, back off entirely and maybe even greet him — all depending on his answers, and Rick's judgment.

For his part, Daryl wasn't picking up anything blatantly alarming about the guy yet, though he also couldn't see his face. Tone of voice and posture could only provide so much information, especially when both could lie in ways that eyes often didn't. There was a reason that Daryl and Rick could communicate so extensively through eye contact alone, even when it was one-sided.

[shiftingurbulls]

"No sir, no humans, just the undead. We had an outbreak an' I did wha' I had to."

And there it was: the defining trait that brought the young man here from a survivor boat. Though the Hordes were Infected, not real undead, their sheer numbers and the danger that came along with their bite was reminiscent of the Walkers from Rick and Daryl's world.

Ellis' answer was steadfast, he didn't regret doing what he did if it kept his friends alive. There was no doubt in his mind that he'd have to kill humans but he wanted to delay that inevitable. He wasn't looking forward to it: zombies didn't think, humans like the two men did. This was the only dent in his nearly endless optimism about the Arena. He'd only kill if the attacker put him or Nick in trouble.

[rictator]

"You did what you had to."

He nodded to himself as he considered the words, letting his gaze fall to the ground at Ellis' feet. It wasn't a gesture of submission by any stretch - If anything, it was just another test. He'd left the window open, giving him opportunity to strike, if that was when he'd intended.

There was a lot that could be done in the name of necessity; Rick knew better than most just what a man was capable of when pushed. It was a slippery slope to tread - When they'd all done terrible things, 'I did what I had to' became a pretty convenient out. It was dangerously easy to blur the lines, convincing yourself that 'I needed to' or 'there was no other option' rather than accepting responsibility for your actions. It wouldn't always help you sleep at night, but it was an easier pill to swallow than the label of 'murderer'.

If Ellis needed those supplies, just what was he prepared to do to get them? He didn't strike Rick as a killer, but what if his friend's life was hanging in the balance? What were the lives of a couple of strangers? Rick already knew what he would have done - and it had him considering what he might have to do now, if it came down to it.

His mention of the undead didn't surprise Rick as much as it could have - But then, Ellis was hardly the first person he'd spoken to that knew about the walkers. Clementine, Luke, Nick... It was becoming an alarming pattern, and one that he was already well aware of. Unfortunately, it wasn't the sort of kinship that helped put him at ease; if anything, it only served to make him warier. He'd seen firsthand the sorts of monsters his world had built, what the turn had done to people. Gareth, the Governor...

"You did what you had to do, but you say you haven't killed anyone. Why?"

Survivors were dangerous people - Rick would know.

[weaintashes]

It wasn't much of a test in truth, considering the way Daryl remained tensed, muscles coiled and prepared to knock the stranger on his ass if he so much as shifted in Rick's direction — not that Ellis could have known that. The guy seemed so oddly guileless, trusting in a way that raised more than a few red flags, and yet... there wasn't any air of deception about him, so far as Daryl could tell.

Reminded him a lot of Stookey, who'd been optimistic almost to a fault. He'd certainly had his secrets as well, but all Daryl'd had to do was bristle and flash a bit of fang to get him to wise up to how things were done in their group. Folks like that weren't difficult to get on with. Being able to muster that kind of hope and optimism in the face of everything they've dealt with, that took its own sort of strength. Bob would be missed.

These silent considerations were revealed in Daryl's slightly raised eyebrows, the set of his mouth, the tilt of his head. He was leaning toward letting this guy go, with or without the requested first-aid supplies. But his final answer would be the deciding factor.

[shiftingurbulls]

"I stole and raided, sir...I don't hurt unless they hurt me first, let sleepin' dogs lie an' all tha' shit," Ellis was honest about these sorts of things. Infected could be killed a dime a dozen, but fellow Survivors? There was something to be said about this young man's sense of right and wrong when he'd rather share in the bounty with a complete stranger than shoot their head off. There had to be a light at the end of the tunnel, and the more survivors remained, the closer they could all get to rebuilding their home.

That said, his body language spoke more about remorse for having stolen from stores and little caches that were probably there for someone else. Nick told him to buck up, Coach assured him that more would come along and Rochelle added to that. It didn't take away from the sting but it was better than to starve and die. They needed their youngest to remain their unifying glue, or the wind would be knocked out of them. In Ellis' eyes, tomorrow would be another day, another chance to get to the promised land.

[rictator]

It was really only half an answer, but the rest was intimated in the line of his body, the tone of his voice. That anchor of guilt was too familiar to Rick, and he picked up on it immediately - but he didn't think he was lying. Ellis was in that same boat they were all in, doomed to get their hands dirty in the name of scraping by. Perhaps he hadn't been forced to the extreme of killing another person, but inevitably, he would. Or he'd die. Or he'd lose people. There were so many ways it could play out, but no matter how it did, happy endings were a relic of a world long gone.

While he didn't perceive him as an immediate threat, trying to force his guard to relax was a war in itself; his fingers were locked around the grip of his knife as though his life was threatened, his heart pounding a quick, uneven rhythm.

Killing him was still the safest route. If he was dead, it eliminated any future threat. And realistically, did it even matter anymore? He'd be brought back, alive and well for the next time he was slated to be murdered, this time without any knowledge of their location. Even if he wasn't planning anything, could he speak for this 'friend' of his? Would he end up running his mouth to the wrong people, spilling that vital information?

Was his life worth more than Beth's? Daryl's?

It was Daryl he looked to then, hoping that he might find the answer he needed - The answer Daryl seemed to know from the start. It wasn't so much that his own solution was wrong, but some small, damaged part of him needed to believe that there was still a better way. Daryl's answer, conveyed in that brief expression, was riskier, but... it was better. It was the one he knew he'd have gone with before everything had happened, before the Governor and Terminus and all the things that shaped him into what he was now. Maybe he would come to regret it - but he sincerely hoped that he wouldn't.

Rick let out a breath, releasing with it some of the built up tension from his lean frame.

"Alright," he conceded, making one final sweep of the arena beyond the cave. A brief hand signal to Daryl to give him the all clear, let him know that he was free to make his presence known.

"But let's get one thing clear. We help you, and you come back here- You threaten any of my people? I will kill you."

[weaintashes]

There was a grunt from directly behind Ellis as Daryl straightened his posture, and he purposely crunched some of the untouched snow beneath his boots to indicate his presence. He didn't want to inadvertently startle the stranger too badly and risk a violent reaction, because he knew Rick's retaliation would undoubtedly be fatal then. Unnecessarily messy for everyone involved.

Though he had a feeling they could probably trust the guy to not do anything foolish (more foolish than approaching strangers in a death match arena and asking for vital supplies, anyway), he briefly stooped down to collect the knife from the ground. Just in case.

"You'll get this back when you leave," he said with a glance to Ellis as he passed him, but only moved slightly ahead before turning to face him, pointedly not giving his back to the stranger. Nor had he sheathed his hunting knife yet, but it was held in a deceptively relaxed manner, just as his demeanour was intentionally friendlier than Rick's.

"M'Daryl," he said, and nodded to his companion. "That's Rick."

If Ellis were observant he might pick up on the traces of a third person in their camp (along with the fact Rick had stated 'my people'), but Daryl was less certain about mentioning Beth in any detail. The question was in his eyes as he gave Rick a look. Should they specifically tell him about her? If Ellis ran into her later it might make him more inclined to help her — or try to use her against them.

"So tell us 'bout this buddy'a yours with the cat scratches. How bad? N'are you two on your own?" Not that he was expecting the complete truth, but it couldn't hurt to ask, gauge the guy's response.

[shiftingurbulls]

Ellis was startled out of his stance as soon as Daryl made himself known but the younger man quickly recovered his usual cautious stance. Hell, he even saluted Rick after learning his name, he looked military or at least commanding enough. He didn't mind Dixon taking the knife, he expected it.

"We ran outta them just keepin' him alive, an' I know for a fact tha' if those wounds don't get dressed, all tha' work would go to shit. He's from my world, an' I care about him enough t' get him as far as I can," the mechanic spoke up without a hint of deception. "Believe me, I'd rather not cause trouble o' put y'all under strains you can't handle. We're on our own."

Had El known this was Beth's group, he would've asked for her with a brighter smile and disposition. He wondered how she was, was she still alive? Was she safe? He could only tell the third person had been in the cave but wasn't present.

[rictator]

Faint amusement flickered across his features, probably the closest thing to friendliness he'd displayed thus far. Ellis' salute was edging on ridiculous, but seeing Daryl's easy shift into the role of the 'good cop'... It was such a far cry from the angry, grief-stricken man he'd met in Atlanta, It was almost hard to believe they were the same person. It suited him, somehow.

"We can handle it," he said, his gaze shifting from the confiscated knife back to Ellis, remaining a few paces behind, as though he might somehow act as a wall between him and his camp. "We wouldn't be offering otherwise."

Daryl's unspoken question was met with a near imperceptible sake of his head, his lips falling back into their grim line. There was no point in drawing attention to their third member, not when the potential threat outweighed any of the benefits. Their location was compromised, along with the status of their supplies; while Rick trusted Beth was capable, he didn't trust that other tributes were going to be playing fair. Ellis himself may not have been a threat, but that knowledge mixed with his straightforward, too-honest nature could prove lethal.

It had crossed his mind to ask about the location of their camp, how close it was - but for the moment, he'd let Daryl do the talking. If the subject strayed too far off course, he'd guide it back with a firmer hand - but it was better for both parties to keep the situation calm and controlled for as long as they could.

[weaintashes]

The salute was really something else, and though Daryl didn't smile there was laughter in his eyes, in the way the fine lines at the corners became more pronounced as he exchanged another pointed look with Rick. Even without the uniform, stetson, and badge, people could still recognise the cop in him. He was definitely going to get teased about it later.

"No trouble," Daryl agreed easily, "unless y'make trouble." Moving fully into the cave camp, he knelt near where he knew one of the first aid kits was stashed and brushed the pine needles off it. He laid out a sizable strip of tanned deer hide, then started picking out the medical supplies that would help with infected lacerations and arranged them on it. It wasn't a matter of being stingy, just practical; no sense in sending the entire kit with the guy, even if they did currently have a few to spare. They'd been extremely lucky so far, but there was no telling what the future held.

"Where ya from?" he called back over his shoulder as he worked. "Sounds like we might'a been neighbours before all this shit."

Ellis obviously hailed from the South, but Daryl was willing to put his money on Georgia specifically. And despite present circumstances, he found it a little heartening to think Ellis might be from some version of 'home' — not that it'd make them any more likely to trust him, but there was something to be said for familiarity.

[shiftingurbulls]

That was enough for Ellis to tip his hat with a grin, "The great city o' Savannah good sirs, born an' raised an' evacuated!" That last part wasn't taken lightly, "We were overrun an' shit went down fast when th' Infected started mobbin' us all. My buddies Keith an' Dave, they got my momma an' their parents outta there in time t' head up north to I think it was Nebraska or Montana, I know they made it safe. I promised 'em I'd be on the next helicopter."

He still remembered waking up to go to work then saying goodbye to his dear mother, Miss Cordelia Ann, for the last time. It's that devotion and that drive to care a that stuck with Ellis. "I met my new family then. Where'd y'all come from though?"

[rictator]

Oh, he knew he'd be hearing about it later. Here he was, beard wild and looking a few steps from homeless, and he was still recognized for his previous career, as though he'd never put away the badge. Daryl might as well have been grinning from where Rick stood, and he quirked a brow at him in silent challenge, daring him to push it. Opportunities to laugh were few and far between these days, so Rick wasn't going to let this one slip away - even if it was at his own expense.

With Daryl gathering the needed supplies, Rick continued to keep a sharp eye on their guest; the archer was more than up to the task, and Rick trusted in his ability to divvy them up. In truth, he'd been doing this far longer than Rick had. He'd be able to give him what he'd need without cutting into their own stock, factoring their potential future needs. Luck was never guaranteed to hold out.

King County was barely a mark on the map, and he doubted that Ellis would have heard of it . But the question did make him come to a rather abrupt realization - He had no idea where Daryl was from. He knew he'd lived with his brother, but was it in Atlanta? He didn't strike him as someone who'd lived in the city. Had they been travelling, like Andrea? He was half tempted to ask him later, once this was over.

"Down closer to Atlanta."

With talks of Washington still fresh, he remembered just how little of the country they'd seen since the turn. Atlanta was a graveyard, more dead than living by this point. The buildings were skeletons, stripped to the charred bare bones. Where there were higher concentrations of people, there were bound to be more walkers; it only made sense that the other cities had suffered a similar fate. Clementine's group had confirmed that much previously. If the 'infected' was just another name for walkers... It still may not have been the same world they'd left behind, but it was sounding remarkably close.

... In which case, it also wasn't the first time he'd heard talks of Nebraska. Or worse, a man named Dave who'd been planning on heading there with his group. A coincidence, but an unfortunate one.

"We call them walkers. They took the city, so we'd been keepin' out of the populated areas."

[weaintashes]

While giving no outward indication of it, Daryl's thoughts had snagged on the barbed wire memory of Dave and Nebraska, but he couldn't entirely recall why they were familiar. He covered by continuing to rifle through the supplies needlessly, allowing his mind time enough to follow the breadcrumb trail of memories which connected the two. It had been back at the farm... Hershel... his flask.

The bar. Rick and Glenn had found Hershel there — and so had a couple of drifters, Dave and Tony. Daryl'd only heard the account secondhand, but there was a reason his mind hadn't yet let go of the information. They'd brought back the injured kid, Randall, to the farm and no one else had been willing to get their hands dirty, so Daryl'd done what had to be done to get information from the little fucker. Dave, Tony, and Randall had been part of a much bigger group of men — their merry band of rapists and marauders.

Surely it couldn't possibly be the same Dave who'd helped evacuate someone's mother.

Thinking of it now, it felt as though everything had happened a lifetime ago. Daryl scrubbed his face with a hand as he pulled himself back to the present, then began carefully rolling up the supplies in the deer hide for easier carrying.

"Up north for me," he replied, unknowingly answering Rick's question at the same time. "In the mountains. Then shit hit the fan, ran into a group of survivors outside Atlanta, and been with 'em ever since." Not that he'd had much choice at the time, considering what the alternative had been after Merle vanished... but he was glad he'd stayed; he'd found his 'new family', too. Returning to Rick and Ellis, he offered the rolled up supplies and confiscated knife to the latter.

"Ain't the first person I've heard call 'em 'Infected'," he noted as he watched Ellis for his reaction. "You happen to know a guy named Nick?"

[shiftingurbulls]

"Pretty sure my world's Atlanta's got the same fate as yours: overrun an' full o' the not-so-dead." At the mention of Nick, Ellis sighed out rather exasperated, "Black hair, kinda built, fuckin' diva o' a man?" Of course Nick had to run into these guys and give them trouble. Because what the hell was surviving in a group, right? Though he omits for now that the supplies he's requested are for them as a team, just in case.

"Wha' did tha' fuckin' idiot do to ya? I'm so sorry but he's like tha' I'm afraid. I may be his friend," and he speaks without shame about that fact, "but goddammit he gets into so much trouble," El rattled on, pretty much accepting that whatever Nick did in his absence may cost them dearly. "He's a survivor from my group, with me, a lady named Rochelle an' a man we call Coach. Well the last two ain't here, thank God but...Nick...well, sorry in advanced."

Oh fate would make sure that apology wasn't wasted.

[rictator]

It took a moment before Rick caught himself, not immediately registering the way his attention had shifted at Daryl's answer. Looking at him now, it was harder to ignore just how little he knew about his life before the turn, and more, how before this point, he'd never thought to ask. A large part of that had been respect for the other's privacy; between the glimpse of his scarred torso and spending more than five minutes in Merle Dixon's presence, he'd managed to piece together a few things. But really, when it came down to it, the same could be said for the majority of his group. He hadn't questioned how the Dixon's had come to throw their lot in with Shane anymore than he had Carol and Ed, or Jim.

Maybe, because in the end, the past didn't matter anymore. The people they'd been before, the lives they'd led - That wasn't who they were now. Were it up north, in the mountains, Rick and Daryl would likely have ended up on opposing sides, victims of their own prejudice; with his brother's influence still strong and Rick's career choice, the odds were stacked against them. In some bizarre way, the end of the world had paved the way for their friendship, to the point now where Rick couldn't imagine his life without the archer at his side. Christ, even here, universes away, Daryl still had a knack for showing up precisely when he needed him most.

And yet, even with that in mind, curiosity had somehow crept up on him, taking up residence in the back of his mind. He wanted to know more about the other man, past and present.

But not right now.

He let the question fall to Daryl, having never encountered Nick personally; he'd heard about the encounter after the fact. At the time, he hadn't thought much of it, as their particular brand of survivor was becoming more common in Panem - But hearing Ellis' story, he couldn't help but sympathize. Rick understood better than most; having his people there was both a blessing and a curse. Sure, it helped to have another set of eyes to watch your back, but the inevitable end of the arena was always looming on the horizon. There was only ever going to be one winner, which meant one way or another, they were all going to lose.

[weaintashes]

Rick's silence was acknowledged with another glance directed his way, and Daryl's eyes remained on him for several moments, eyefucking returning his curious regard, as he began his account of the murderous flock of geese.

"Back at the very starta things, I found 'im surrounded by some real pissed off geese, so I helped out. Sent 'im on his way with a bird for his trouble. He didn't do nothin' sneaky when I had my back turned, and he coulda — I wasn't armed then," Daryl explained, a hint of confusion in his tone because of Ellis apologising on Nick's behalf. Almost seemed as though they were talking about two different people, if not for the description Ellis provided. This had to be the same guy. "Seemed like an alright guy, really. But I didn't stick around to socialise."

Understandably. He wasn't keen on giving people the opportunity to shank him.

Despite the briefness of their encounter, he thought Nick was a fairly stand up guy both for thanking him and for keeping his word about not attacking. Daryl tended to operate on the assumption that people were inherently self-centered and cruel, particularly in an arena where it was in their best interests to try and kill him and everyone he cared about, so someone behaving in a trustworthy manner is significant to him. Of course, it would be a vastly different story in a few weeks time... but at present, Daryl and Rick might just be the only two people here who didn't think Nick was an asshole.

[shiftingurbulls]

"Oh, Oh good, he behaved," Ellis exhaled a breath he wasn't aware he was holding in. He was so sure Nick had gotten into trouble while he wasn't here. "Sorry, I just know he's not th' friendliest type but he's got his head on survivin' an' keepin' us safe. It's been a while since we've split up."

The way El spoke, it was more like a younger brother talking about his more accomplished sibling, a sweetness that never went away even as he scolded Nick. He wouldn't regret his friendship in any way.

[rictator]

This time, it was Rick who looked away first, moving under the pretense of keeping a better watch on their uninvited guest. He belatedly arranged his features into something closer to neutral, hopefully before Ellis picked up on anything - But then, he didn't strike Rick as the sort of observant that would have understood the meaning of the glance; there'd be plenty of time later to explain himself, and maybe, ask a few of the questions that had been stirred by his poorly-timed revelation.

Generally, Rick was the sort to make up his own mind when it came to people, reserving judgement until he could meet an individual himself, talk to them - But Daryl's opinion held a lot of weight. There was a reason why he'd trusted him with every person he'd brought back through the prison gates, back to their home and their family. It was the same reason he'd trusted him now, valued his input on those they'd met within the confines of the arena and beyond that. The nature of the game had everyone on edge, and the fact that Nick hadn't struck when the opportunity arose meant a lot; Rick wasn't about to send him an invitation to their camp, but he wouldn't have shot on sight either.

"I get that."

Though, Ellis' reaction left him to wonder just what he'd seen in his friend that Daryl hadn't. He'd been quick to apologize, where neither of them had shown any sign of open hostility towards his companion; that was the first red flag. Fighting for survival was to be expected, but what else had Nick been doing that justified that sort of kneejerk response?

Rick's eyes lingered on Ellis' face for an uncomfortably long moment, as though he were trying to read the truth from his expression alone.

"So what sort of 'misbehaving' has he been getting up to? Anything we ought to know about?"

[weaintashes]

As was his wont, Daryl let Rick end the eye contact without comment or any particular change in his expression. He trusted that whatever the concern might be, it didn't have anything to do with their guest; where others would find an unreadable mask, all the finer nuances of emotion that might cross Rick's face were usually as blatant as spoken words to Daryl, and that hadn't been a look of warning.

Ellis had said he and his companion with the saber-tooth tiger wounds were on their own, which could only mean the first-aid supplies they'd handed over would be used for Nick. It did help putting a face to their mystery beneficiary, especially when it turned out to be someone Daryl didn't resent helping. Good first impressions could go a long way.

"Sounds like I just caught 'im at a good moment," he replied, and his uncertain caution practically echoed Rick's question to Ellis. It was only to be expected that he and Rick would find themselves on the exact same page, wondering what it was Nick had been getting up to that might warrant Ellis's overly apologetic reaction on his behalf. At the same time, he couldn't help but be reminded of how he'd defended Merle on occasion — as a younger sibling preemptively trying to smooth things over because it was inevitable that his older brother would royally fuck up, and usually sooner rather than later.

This wasn't exactly a point in Nick's favour. If he was anything like Merle, trouble was goddamn guaranteed, and Daryl didn't want his family or himself anywhere near it when it happened.

[shiftingurbulls]

"He's a drifter sorta guy, mouthy an' tends to bitch more than he thanks," Ellis described Nick as best he could without giving away that he was a conman before all this. No self-respecting man walks around the zombie apocalypse in a suit and calls himself a legitimate businessman. "He was a poker player." Close enough, "Usually a loner, you know?"

He had no idea what Nick would do in the future, "He does wha' he needs to survive...I don't necessarily agree with bein' so reckless. He does it...to keep me an' my group safe."

[rictator]

It always seemed to come full circle, falling back into the same familiar theme; there was nothing reassuring about a man with something to lose. If Nick was serious about protecting his people, about protecting Ellis, then 'reckless' was a mild way of putting it. Rick had been on both ends of that particular equation, and a singular encounter with Nick - particularly at the beginning of the arena, before conditions had worsened - wasn't likely to be a completely accurate gauge of character. Desperation changed a man.

The muscle in his jaw worked as he clenched his teeth, casting a downward glance back at the supplies that Daryl had prepared. They'd agreed to help, and he wasn't about to renege on that offer just yet - but that didn't stop him from considering his options. Sending him on his way with nothing was a sure way to end any potential alliance they may have had - and was just as much a risk now. If nothing else, following through with their original plan might have at least bought his silence.

"Best you keep this between us, then," he concluded, his expression daring the other to say otherwise. This was a onetime deal - There was no reason for him to go running his mouth, telling Nick where the stuff had come from. Rick wasn't looking for gratitude.

He offered a brief tip of the chin to Daryl, his own affirmation that he intended to follow through. They'd been lingering too long for his liking, and it was better that they get this wrapped up - preferably before Beth's return. Her presence was just going to add another layer to an already complicated situation, one which he would much rather avoid.

[weaintashes]

The picture that was being painted of Nick made him sound downright hot-headed under normal circumstances, the one willing to get his hands dirty for the sake of the others in their group — and quite possibly enjoyed doing so. First impressions really could be misleading, sometimes, a thought which had Daryl openly subjecting Ellis to a look of narrow-eyed scrutiny for several seconds.

This did lend some credibility to previous claims of Nick having been injured by the tigers, at least. He was pretty sure that tale was true, but mostly because Ellis struck him as a poor liar.

"Hopin' we don't run into each other again here. Arenas ain't really the place for gettin' to know people," he said lightly, his friendliness not entirely contrived at this point. Ellis seemed like a lost puppy one of the good guys, and if this gesture of good will didn't come back to bite them on the ass later, it would be a pretty solid foundation for future alliance-building. At Rick's acquiescence, he pushed the bundle of supplies into Ellis's hands. "Reckon we'll see you 'round afterward, maybe hit the Training Center bar together. They got some good shit. Good luck out there."

They would all have to live with each other after the arena was over, and depending on Ellis's intentions toward them, it could serve as either an amiable reminder or a subtle threat. Preferably they would all share a round or three at some point.

[shiftingurbulls]

Ellis nodded at these offering and grinned at the thought of sharing a beer with them, even honored as he grabbed the supplies. He gave the two a salute and stepped away. "Thank ya an' here's hopin' we get to the finish line!"

If only the young survivor know the fates would turn out but he feels...okay with getting these supplies to Nick. Even as he knows the man will end up killing a few Tributes, he doesn't realize just how screwed up the count will be. And how close one of those bullets will hit Rick and Daryl's camp.

[rictator]

With Daryl handing over the supplies, Rick made one final sweep of the tree line, keeping an eye out for any signs of movement. He was willing to accept Ellis' story about his friend by this point, but the transaction had taken longer than he would have liked; the last thing they needed was for anyone else to stumble across them. Their location was secure, but it wasn't unreachable - This meeting alone had proved that much.

He had to restrain himself against shaking his head at the second salute, the ghost of a smile creeping across his lips as the other man took off, finally making the move to sheath his weapon.

The 'finish line' was a grisly thought, all things considered. Out of the three of them, the odds were that none of them were going to see the end of the arena; even if one of them did manage to step out on top, the other two would have been casualties of that win. There was no real victory to be had here - It only served to mark the end of one game, and start the wait until the next.

But... Rick understood the sentiment behind it.

With Ellis disappearing into the forest, his eyes were back on his partner, offering him a brief nod along with his own silent gratitude; had it not been for Daryl's subtle guidance, he might have let him walk... or worse. Helping him, even if it had taken Rick time to warm to the idea, had been the right move. It still wasn't a kindness he'd have extended to most, but Ellis didn't strike him as a bad guy; while he hoped not to see him again within the confines of the arena, crossing paths back in the Capitol wouldn't have been terrible.

As he headed back toward the cave, he brushed his hand against the other man's shoulder, the contact fleeting, but enough. Beth should have been back soon - Best they get things organized before then.