The first thing you thought when you saw Merle Dixon was bald head. The second thing you thought, despite the bloody stump, was bald headed asshole.
You’d held out my hands and offered help, most people would thank their lucky stars when a nurse happened to walk by at the right time. In fact, a nurse walking by at the right time in the apocalypse was like a galaxy of lucky stars. Merle had taken one long look along your body and said, “now hold up a minute ‘ere sugar tits, how do I know y’aint tryin’ to take advantage of ol’ Merle?”
Yes, he’d meant advantage of his body and yes, you’d almost left him there to die right there and then but something had stopped you and it certainly wasn’t his sparkling personality. It was yours, you couldn’t do that to another person even if you’d seen the worst of humanity since the dead started walking.
This was so lovely! I adored how you write Merle, making such an nice asshole, and how easily you make the story flow and how you can translate the feelings so well in your work. It’s such a beautiful thing, that I really admire on you!