Five days. That was how long Connor had been staring at the man who had stolen his brother’s face. The two men had barely spoken to each other, save the typical salutations which were only reserved for when they were in front of the rest of the group. But Connor could just not believe what his eyes were seeing.
“Connor, what exactly is ye obsession with that fucker wit’ me face?” Murph asked when they were in the woods alone.
“I don’t know what yer talkin’ ’bout, Murph,” he replied, continuing to pick up the needed wood for their fire that evening. It was a simple task that the brothers had taken on when they joined the group at the rock quarry, stumbling upon Daryl out in the woods. Aside from being extremely awkward around the redneck given his face, he deemed them not a real threat and offered to take them back.
“Ye can’t stop staring at ‘im. I see ye, ye know.” Murphy bent down to grab a large branch, nearly dropping everything he had already gathered, but he wouldn’t let the topic drop.
Connor shrugged. “He looks exactly like ye, Murph. How could I not stare? It’s like he could be yer twin ‘stead of me.” Really, he just found the other man fascinating and he wanted to know more about him and his damn crossbow, but it was so much more than that and he couldn’t tell his Murph that.