The length of Daryl's body was pressed into Rick's beneath the sheets, their limbs still tangled from their earlier activities, his head tucked between Rick's neck and shoulder, where his breath was warm and steady against his lover's skin. It felt as though he'd barely drifted off when the sudden shuddery jolt of the train and shrieking brakes startled him into immediate alertness; he'd been thrown backwards, nearly right off the bed.

"Rick," came his urgent and unnecessary whisper to his bedmate, whom he could tell was already waking. Quickly freeing himself from the sheets, he stood and started pulling on his clothes with practised haste, and separated Rick's out for him at the same time. Everything had been left strewn across the floor of their private compartment, and a couple items of clothing were probably confused in the low light and wound up on the wrong body, but that hardly mattered. Their priority went without saying: they had to get to Vivi and make sure he was safe.

Charlie was likewise already up and grumbling his annoyance at being woken so roughly, which soon became low growling in warning as he stood at the door listening to the chaos erupting beyond it. His attention remained there even as Daryl urged him this way and that, leashing and preparing him to take with them. There was no way in hell he'd ever leave their dog behind, especially if danger was near at hand. Better to stick together.