Julia Denning (mommyluvsu) wrote in zombieslogs, @ 2012-10-21 22:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | daryl dixon, julia denning |
Who: Julia Denning Kent and Daryl Dixon
What: Talking over dinner
Where: Cafeteria
When: Sunday night
Warnings: To be added if necessary.
Julia tried not to pick at her fingernails as she left the infirmary, an old nervous habit she'd developed back in her nursing program days resurfacing almost without her notice, as she worried over invisible specks of dirt. Now that she was practicing again she knew that cleanliness would have to take a new priority in her day to day life, especially when things like medical grade antiseptics were saved almost exclusively for patient care. Outside of dealing with open wounds it was back to the basics, washing hands almost religiously in between appointments with what passed for soap here which helped prevent the spread of germs, but left her hands looking a little worse for the wear. Skin tight and dry from the lack of natural oils, while her freshly cut short nails bit in to the tough corners of her pale fingers.
Staring down at her hands now Julia couldn't help but frown briefly, quietly knowing that it was a silly thing to get upset over, especially when this was her life now and she was glad for it. For the chance to get back to doing what she loved and being able to make a difference again, even if it was just cleaning scrapes and bandaging cuts. There was a certain peace to the simplicity of it, one that she'd nearly forgotten after she switched her ambitions and began her training as a field officer for the Tall Men. That job had come with its own rewards, but it had taken her away from the dream she'd first had as a girl volunteering at the Cold Creek free clinic, holding the hands of worried soon-to-be mothers as they prepared to give birth and then helping the nurses check the babies after delivery. She didn't regret the work she'd done, not for a second, but Julia couldn't deny that the decision had taken things from her. Like the wedding band she'd once worn every day for thirteen years, but now the finger was just as naked as the rest with no sign left at all that it had ever been there.
During her escape from this prison a little over a year ago she'd tried looking for it, searching for the room prisoner's possessions were held, but there hadn't been any time. Maybe she could find it now that she was back though, once she felt secure enough that her secret was safe, that she could in fact stay here and unpack her bag instead of worrying about how she might make her escape if she had to. But that was a thought for another time Julia realized as she shook her head slightly to firmly clear it from her mind. She actually had somewhere she was supposed to be, though now that she was nearing the cafeteria she absently wondered if she should have stopped by her room first.
It had been a relatively slow day in the infirmary so her clothes were suitably clean, still managing with what she'd brought into the prison with her; a dark pair of cargo pants worn slightly at the knees and a white tank layered under a red quarter-sleeve vee neck blouse. Which absolutely did nothing to hide the scars on her right forearm from when she'd had to fight off Mrs. Johnson's attack dog three years ago, not that she supposed it matter much. Still her hair was kind of a mess, brown curls falling from her high ponytail so she pulled the tie loose and tried to comb some order into them with her fingers. Maybe she was worrying too much but it had been a long time since someone had cooked a meal for her so she wanted to look relatively nice for the event. And that was really all she could do before she pushed open the double doors to the cafeteria, hazel eyes searching over the tables for the man she was here to meet, Daryl Dixon.