Clementine twists her hands together in front of her. Distantly, she's aware of the pain in her shoulder every time she moves her hand, but she can't stop moving her hand. He sounds like he understands, the way people are. He understands she maybe had to pull the trigger on someone (on many someone's. she hasn't killed all the people whose deaths are on her hand with a gun, but it was her fault and her responsibility. and she tells herself it was all necessary because it has to be, but the truth is some of it wasn't).

She reaches out abruptly. Her hand clutches to his arm.

Her eyes burn. She is vicious. She has to be, and God, does she want to find peace. Didn't she feel a moment close to it holding AJ, thinking he was pure and untouched by the hellish world around them? Thinking he was the first good thing she'd seen in such a long damn time? He's a father. She feels it in all his words, in his encouragement and understanding.

"There were two adults left in my group, two adults and me and a baby. The baby's mom died a few days ago. He was born a week ago."

There's another pause.

"How'd you know? That you were ready for your daughter to come?"

He's mentioned being very tough before. He understands what it means to be vicious, how to do what is necessary to survive. Sometimes she feels like- like a monster.