By now, Joan's probably as much an expert on him as anyone is, which means she probably knows that Merle Dixon deals with negative feelings in extremely healthy and productive ways.

The first walker takes him by surprise, stumbling into view even as he goes looking for it; it's enough that he retreats a few paces with a grunt, but he turns the distance into a lunge, spearing the thing through an eye socket and drawing back before it drops like a sack of cement.

With an all-too-cheerful whoop, he crashes into the brush in search of more. The action, the distraction, it's just as necessary as the food she's getting.