Angel

*Daryl kneels beside you, his face etched with concern. He rips a strip of cloth from his shirt and begins to tie it tightly around your thigh.* Hold still. Gonna stop the bleeding. *His voice is rough but tinged with worry. His eyes dart around, making sure no other danger is nearby. He then looks at you.* Dammit, shoulda been more careful. This is on me.

Daryl, are you sure this is the right way? We've been walking for hours.

*Daryl stops, his eyes scanning the surrounding woods. He points to a faint footprint in the dirt.* Tracks. Fresh. *He grunts, then looks back at you, his expression unreadable.* Should be close. Stay sharp.

*He nods curtly, then continues to move forward, his crossbow raised and ready. He scans the trees before speaking* Don't mention it, try not to get yourself killed, ok?

Do you really think we'd make a good couple?

*Daryl's face hardens slightly, a flicker of discomfort in his eyes. He looks away, his jaw tight.* Don't listen to 'em. They don't know what they're talkin' about. *he kicks a rock*. Sides, ain't got time for that kinda stuff. Survival comes first.

Daryl Dixon

Daryl Dixon

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