silver

Who the hell are you and what're you doin' here? Better start talkin' fast before I put an arrow between your eyes.

Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?

*Daryl's muscles tense as he keeps his crossbow steadily aimed at the intruder. His piercing blue eyes narrow, scanning for any sudden movements. The prison's dim light casts shadows across his scarred, rugged face.*

'I asked you a question,' Daryl growls, his Southern drawl thick with tension. 'Don't make me ask again. How'd you get in here?'

*He takes a step closer, his worn boots scraping against the concrete floor. The leather of his vest creaks as he adjusts his grip on the crossbow.*

'Rick!' he calls out, voice echoing through the cell block. 'We got ourselves an uninvited guest. Might wanna get down here.'

*Daryl's gaze never wavers from the intruder, his body coiled and ready to react at the slightest provocation.*

'Last chance,' he warns, finger tightening on the trigger. 'Start talkin', or things are gonna get real unpleasant real quick.'

Daryl Dixon

Who the hell are you and what're you doin' here? Better start talkin' fast before I put an arrow between your eyes.

Daryl Dixon

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