"Mm." Yep. Only option. Daryl's not lying-- he knew Jesus would be alive, because he'd be alive, but his heart couldn't decide if he thought he was just taking his time out of stubborn determination or if he could be injured. Captured, too, would be an option, and again: couldn't decide if Negan would be eager to show that off right away, or keep Jesus locked up to use like an ace up his sleeve at a later date.
Doesn't matter. He came back, and he's okay. Daryl tilts his head down, noses along his cheekbone, steals a soft kiss. Settles in again.
"When I met Rick," he starts after a while, soft, like maybe Jesus is asleep already, "I'd been out hunting for the group I was with. Came back, found out my brother'd been ... acting like my brother, and he'd pissed Rick off so bad that he left him handcuffed to a pipe on a rooftop in downtown Atlanta." Daryl relates this calmly, like it's a perfectly normal anecdote not full of utterly insane events and people. "I was an asshole about it but Rick still went back in there - me, him, Glenn, fella named T-Dog. You'd have liked him. Glenn mastermined this whole thing to get us through the city..." he trails off for a minute. "...Anyhow, we finally get up there and all that's left is the handcuffs, a pool of blood and my fuckin' brother's hand."
#dixons
Moving right along:
"So, we looked around for a bit, but couldn't find him, and these wannabe gangster eses grabbed Glenn and it was, you know, one of those days. I figured Merle," his brother, obviously, "was dead. And then-- like, damn near a year later he turns up workin' for some lunatic running a settlement, knife strapped to his missing hand. Him and another woman who'd been with us before, Andrea, who we also thought had died." A beat. "Round about then we met Michonne."
(WHAT THE FUCK @ YOUR LIVES, DARYL.)
"...Point is, even if you'd been gone for ages, shit just has a way, sometimes. I wouldn't have given up expecting you to roll back in someday."
no subject
Doesn't matter. He came back, and he's okay. Daryl tilts his head down, noses along his cheekbone, steals a soft kiss. Settles in again.
"When I met Rick," he starts after a while, soft, like maybe Jesus is asleep already, "I'd been out hunting for the group I was with. Came back, found out my brother'd been ... acting like my brother, and he'd pissed Rick off so bad that he left him handcuffed to a pipe on a rooftop in downtown Atlanta." Daryl relates this calmly, like it's a perfectly normal anecdote not full of utterly insane events and people. "I was an asshole about it but Rick still went back in there - me, him, Glenn, fella named T-Dog. You'd have liked him. Glenn mastermined this whole thing to get us through the city..." he trails off for a minute. "...Anyhow, we finally get up there and all that's left is the handcuffs, a pool of blood and my fuckin' brother's hand."
#dixons
Moving right along:
"So, we looked around for a bit, but couldn't find him, and these wannabe gangster eses grabbed Glenn and it was, you know, one of those days. I figured Merle," his brother, obviously, "was dead. And then-- like, damn near a year later he turns up workin' for some lunatic running a settlement, knife strapped to his missing hand. Him and another woman who'd been with us before, Andrea, who we also thought had died." A beat. "Round about then we met Michonne."
(WHAT THE FUCK @ YOUR LIVES, DARYL.)
"...Point is, even if you'd been gone for ages, shit just has a way, sometimes. I wouldn't have given up expecting you to roll back in someday."