WHO: Daryl Dixon and Silver Reid (match-up) WHAT: Random encounter WHERE: The park WHEN: Monday afternoon WARNINGS: Daryl's mouth, maybe, none really expected other than that STATUS: Closed/Ongoing
Daryl was in one of his more relatively 'social' moods, and so the warm morning found him in the park. He was sitting cross-legged on the grass, sharpening some newly-made arrows with a knife, enjoying the summer sunshine. He was used to the heat - there wasn't much worse than Georgia in the summer, and it felt good not to have to worry about Walkers coming up behind him.
He still hadn't accepted the fact that he truly didn't have to worry anymore about that - and he found himself jumping at the slightest sound. Survival instincts died hard, he supposed, so he didn't have to. But he'd been here a while now, and he was starting to get used to it, letting himself fall into a slightly calmer attitude. Not nicer, maybe, as he was still as bristly as ever, but at least he didn't sleep with his crossbow anymore - he'd moved it to the dressing table. Still close enough to reach, and it sure made sleeping more comfortable. But it was still a sign that he'd eased up a little. He wasn't sure how he felt about that - it could mean a pretty horrible death if he was suddenly transported back home...but he'd been here long enough he'd started to think maybe that wasn't going to happen at all.
He heard a stick crack behind him, and he still tensed, whirling around rather quickly, cross-bow in hand.
"What the fuck did you do that for? Careful who you sneak up on."