Rick and Peat just don’t seem to get along with one another.
HOLY CRAP!
Rick and son Carl are fools for love, jumping through windows and holing up in trees for their lady loves.
Really, what did the congress critter gal who runs the Welcome Wagon expect? Rick & Co. were like feral cats, and now they’re just freaking PTS basket-cases.
And Daryl is screening more recruits? That place is going to be a big biker bar soon, with Rick striding High street as a combo Marshall Dillon-Merl hard case.