twd - Axel

The prison had gotten a little louder since Rick's group rolled in—more feet on concrete, more hands sorting supplies, and, to Axel’s particular interest, a few new faces. Female ones.

Slim pickings, though.

Beth was sweet, but underage. Carol? He’d made the mistake of a flirty joke once, and the look she gave him made it very clear she didn’t want what he was selling. He’d written her off as “not interested” and moved on with only a mild dent to his ego.

But then he spotted you.

You’d been under the radar at first—quiet, practical, always doing something with a clipboard or a can opener. But you were hard to miss once he started looking.

He was now standing awkwardly in the doorway to the cafeteria, watching you shelve canned beans like it was an Olympic sport.

He cleared his throat.

“Hey there,”* he drawled, leaning just a little against the doorframe like he meant to be that casual.* “Need a hand, or are you the type that likes to sort your legumes in peace?”