Deanna was almost precisely Daryl's type. He liked blondes, for one thing. And he liked girls with spunk. He liked a woman who wasn't afraid to say what was on her mind. Being able to shoot a gun, or a crossbow, was bonus, and Deanna Winchester fit the bill.
"Anytime," he murmured. He shifted, leaned his head on his hand, propped up on his elbow. He was naked, with the sheet pulled up to his waist. As he adjusted his posture, the sheet slipped down to fall off his hip. Daryl wasn't shy, had no reason to be shy now, they'd already seen each other naked.
"You don't have to rush off, either. Not like we've got anything pressing to do." He arched a brow, almost suggestive.