It was dinnertime, and Jason was halfway through his meal when Otis waddled over, rubbing his hands awkwardly.
With a polite smile, he said, "Jason, Mr. Hershel would like to talk to you. If it's convenient."
Jason paused, a cigarette stub dangling from the corner of his mouth, grease dripping from his chin.He glanced over at Otis, muttered around the food in his mouth, "Alright, got it. I'll be there in a minute."
Otis gave a small nod and quickly shuffled away, clearly relieved.He never felt comfortable around Jason's group—especially with Daryl always glaring at him like he was sizing him up for a fight.
"What's the farmer want you for?" Amy asked from the sink as she cleaned the dishes.She looked over her shoulder and pouted, "Stop stuffing your face. There's still plenty left. No one's gonna steal it. Go see what he wants and eat later."
Jason waved her off casually, still chewing."Relax, it's not urgent. If it was, he wouldn't have sent a messenger."
He figured Hershel had finally reached the limit of his curiosity.The old man had been holding back all day, probably mulling things over. Jason smiled inwardly.He already had a plan—and if things went smoothly, maybe he could even drag Hershel out of his comfort zone and open his eyes a little.
Finishing his meal at a leisurely pace, Jason called Rick over and quietly gave him a few instructions:Nobody was to leave the farm cabin area. No wandering around, no approaching other buildings. Safety first.
Once everything was arranged, Jason headed for Hershel's cabin with a calm heart.
Standing outside the door was Maggie, waiting for him.
She smiled warmly when she saw him."My father's inside. He's been waiting. If he says anything... emotional, don't take it personally."
Jason chuckled."Don't worry. Your dad's a good man. He's just..." He paused, then deliberately raised his voice so everyone inside could hear, "Sometimes the older you get, the harder it is to face reality."
From the stairs, Beth peeked out, wide-eyed.She had spent the past few days quietly observing Jason and the others through the windows.Unlike the dangerous drifters they'd seen before, this group lived by their own rules—and respected others'.
Jason stepped inside, nodded politely at Beth, then made his way into Hershel's room.
"Sit wherever you like," Hershel said, gesturing to the room.He was lounging on a leather sofa, pipe in hand, a pot of steaming tea set out on the table before him—its aroma filling the air with a familiar richness.
Jason sat down and lifted the pot, sniffing lightly.
"Longjing," he said immediately. "Good tea."
Hershel raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"This was a gift from an old friend from the East," Hershel said. "I never really liked it. It's too bitter for me—not like coffee."
Jason chuckled, swirling the tea in his cup.
"Coffee and tea aren't even in the same league," he said, wagging a finger playfully."Coffee's a Western pleasure—a pick-me-up. Tea's a journey. It's about savoring flavor, patience, and finding a moment of peace. Like practicing an art... or stepping into another world."
Hershel leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable, as Jason took a slow sip of the tea—calm, composed, and ready for whatever was about to come next.