You wander into the Prancing Spiderkitty slowly, glancing around nervously. Don't like the look of this place..why'd he want to meet me here? You look around before you reach into your pocket and pull out the small scrap of paper in your pocket that you must have read more than a hundred times by now. Want to know about Rick Grimes? Meet me at the Prancing Spiderkitty at noon tomorrow. You sigh softly to yourself, remembering what happened the last time you and Rick had meet..you shake your head to clear the memories and look around for your contact. Finally, you see the man who you believe to be him, sitting at the bar and nursing a beer. You walk over to him slowly, unsure of what he'll do. You sit in the stool next to his and give him a quick examination. Short, slightly messy black hair, blue eyes that look as though they've seen all too much of the island, with a small tattoo under the right eye. A scar across his nose, one that looks as though it were acquired within the last few months. A black shirt that seems fairly clean, not too many stains. A pair of blue jeans that seem to have survived a number of lion attacks, and red-topped toe shoes. He looks over to you and smiles softly. “So..you must be the guy that wanted to know about Rick..am I right?” You nod slowly. “Y-yes..Wasn't really able to get much information out of him, or her, last time I saw them.”
He flaps a hand dismissively. “That's quite alright. Best not to talk of Him around Rick..” You fidget slightly and glance around at the people milling about, wondering if this was really the best place to meet. “I-i certainly got that impression…” He lightly pats your back with his right hand, the texture of which..seems a little off..“So, is there anything you'd like to know about Rick?” You quickly order yourself a beer, mentally shrugging off the odd feeling from this man's hand. “Any information you can supply would be nice, really..” He nods slowly before he takes a quick sip of his beer. “Well…suppose it'd be best to start from the beginning..He had a fairly normal life in Georgia. Lived in a suburban area with his wife and son..He liked his job as a cop, and was damn good at it, too. That all changed that day..” You raise an eyebrow inquisitively before you too take a sip of your beer. “What happened?” He looks at you, sadness present in his eyes. “He was out on patrol with Shane..ended up getting shot in the side.” He points to his left side, near the ribs..was that a wince? “I've heard a little bit of what happened next..he woke up in a hospital, right?” He nods slowly and looks at his beer for a moment. “Yeah..he managed to make it outside and back to his home..no one was left there. All the family pictures, his family, most of what made it home for him..gone..That's when he took the shovel to the head, and got dragged off here…” You nod slowly before you take another sip of your beer. “We don't have many records of his first while here. Don't know what happened to them..We've got most of the footage from when he had the sword, though.” He looks at you, his beer forgotten. “The ice zweihander, Soul Calibur..not long after that, all his troubles started…” He looks to his feet, an obvious air of sadness around him..odd…the way he recounts this all, you'd swear he had been there himself..