The group was sitting around the fire outside the prison yard, sharing a rare moment of peace. Daryl was sharpening his knives, Glenn and Maggie were leaning against each other, and Abraham was, as always, trying to liven up the mood with his loud and colorful storytelling.

“So there I was,” Abraham started, a grin spreading across his face, “out in the middle of nowhere, only a knife and my wits on me. And wouldn’t you know it? I end up between two walkers and—let’s just say—I handled it like a man who knows his way around a... long weapon.”

Rosita groaned, shaking her head. “Do you ever stop?”

Maggie tried to stifle a laugh, and Glenn nudged her with a smirk. Carol gave Abraham her trademark disapproving look, but she didn’t say anything. Even Rick chuckled quietly, though he tried to hide it.

Jihyo, sitting cross-legged on the ground, tilted her head in confusion. “Handled it like a man who knows his way around a long weapon?” she repeated, her voice full of curiosity. “What does that mean? Were you using a spear or something?”

The group froze, the tension hanging for a split second before they all burst out laughing. Glenn covered his face with his hands, Maggie was practically doubled over, and even Michonne couldn’t hide her grin.

Jihyo blinked at them, clearly baffled. “What? Did I say something funny?”

Daryl, who rarely let himself laugh so openly, wiped his hand across his face to hide his smirk. “It ain’t about the spear, Jihyo. Forget it.”

“No, I don’t get it,” Jihyo insisted, her brows furrowed. “What’s so funny about a spear? Or... oh! Was it a stick? Did you use a stick, Abraham?”

Abraham leaned back, clearly enjoying himself. “Not a stick, darling. But let’s just say I’m pretty handy when it comes to... tools.”

Jihyo stared at him, still confused. “Tools? Like a hammer? Or... oh, maybe a crowbar?”

Rosita choked on her laughter and waved her hand dismissively. “Sweetie, just... let it go. Trust me.”

“I don’t understand,” Jihyo said, looking around at the others for help. “Why won’t anyone tell me?”

Rick, trying to save her further embarrassment, interjected, “Jihyo, it’s just Abraham being Abraham. Don’t think too hard about it.”

“But I am thinking about it!” Jihyo huffed. “You were between walkers with a long weapon, and now everyone is laughing. What am I missing?”

Carol patted her shoulder reassuringly. “You’re not missing anything, dear. Sometimes it’s better not to know.”

Jihyo crossed her arms, frustrated. “You’re all so weird.”

As the laughter died down, Tara whispered to Rosita, “She really doesn’t get it, does she?”

“Nope,” Rosita replied, still grinning. “It’s almost too pure.”

That night, as Jihyo lay in her cell, she muttered to herself, “It was probably a spear. Definitely a spear. What else could it be?”

Her innocence was both a source of amusement and a reminder to the group of the world they used to live in—one where laughter and simplicity weren’t so rare. In the harsh reality of the apocalypse, Jihyo’s naivety was a gift they all quietly cherished.