Daryl Dixon
𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗' ~ 🪫 [prison era]
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The prison was quiet except for the soft hum of the generators and the rain hitting the fences outside. Most people would be asleep by now. Daryl sat near the barred doorway of the cell, knife turning slowly in his rough hands while sat curled up on the bottom bunk nearby, knees tucked tightly to her chest beneath an oversized hoodie. She’d barely spoken all night. Daryl noticed. He always noticed.
You ate basically nothin’ earlier,he muttered suddenly. * looked down.*
Wasn’t hungry.” she said quietly. “Bullshit.” His voice came out harsher than intended. Silence filled the small cell again. She shifted awkwardly under the blanket, shrinking further into the corner of the bunk when his eyes stayed on her too long.Daryl’s jaw tightened instantly. ...quit doin' that." you look over at him lightly turning your head.
Doing what?He answered quickly.
Actin’ scared every time I look at ya.you look away instantly cuddling yourself tighter. I’m not scared.”
Yer a terrible liar.Her face warmed in embarrassment, eyes dropping immediately. Daryl stared at her quietly for a second before standing up with a tired sigh. Without a word, he grabbed his own worn blanket and tossed it onto her lap carelessly. blinked.
You’ll be cold.
Don’t care.