[ Jesus didn't smoke - he'd flirted with the idea of it younger, but it never stuck. Perhaps a good thing, since they were so difficult to get hold of now. Maybe that's something they could grow: tobacco. Or weed, not his place to make that decision. Anyway. He watches Daryl complete this ritual of putting out the cigarette and sorting it out, nodding slightly. By the time the older man's hand is on the door handle Jesus has his own knife out in hand, grip comfortable even here.
There are no immediate threats but as he slips through the door there's a shuffle of movement further in that keeps him on alert. He gestures to Daryl that the immediate coast is clear before disappearing between two of the few aisles in the small place: half a walker - a crawler, really - trying to slowly pull its way toward him with its arms. ] Right.
[ It only takes a few seconds to stride forward and put it out of its misery. He flicks the gore off his knife after. ] Clear this side.
[Once Jesus was in and moving toward the source of the noise, Daryl swept inside and headed the other way. It smelled terrible, mostly of rot, and wasn't anything any of them weren't used to anymore. But as far as the open area in the front of the store, there weren't no more walkers about. As for behind the counter where the drugs were and the door to the back supply, well, that was another matter. Something had to have torn that walker Jesus took down in half.
Not something they needed to deal with immediately.]
This side's clear. Check the shelves for OTCs. Should be your side. I got hygiene.
[They weren't here to clear the place out. Yet. But checking to make sure it was worth coming back to once they got their sweep of the rest of the strip done was part of the plan.]
Got shampoo over here. Some of it might still be good. Soap, too.
[The shelves looked like they'd been gone through, but they weren't empty. Which was a huge blessing.]
This place might be worth bringing a truck out to.
[ He works quick, moving through and taking a visual inventory. ] Not much by first aid left, but there are a lot of things people wouldn't have thought. Saline eye drops can be repurposed. Some regular cough and cold stuff too.
[ When Jesus breathes out it sounds like a sigh - relief, maybe. At least it won't be a total wash either way. ] Definitely. There's more than we can take like this, anyway. [ As he speaks he's moving to the counter - the metal grating is pulled down tight over the windows but it'd only take him a number of seconds to work the locks open with his knife. He doesn't though, not yet. It's right they don't have to deal with it immediately, but it can't hurt to take a look. He doesn't let out a low whistle but if he were someone else, he might've. ]
Yeah. Definitely a truck. It's a mess back there but there are packages for days. No way anyone had time to take just medicine and leave the packages behind.
[ Much less pull the grate back down. Which is promising. Really, really promising. And also means there might be more than meets the eye lurking back there keeping people from going too deep into it. ]
[Daryl did a quick mental inventory of the samples they should grab when they came back through after the rest of the sweep. The backpack could hold only so much and most of it should go to medicines. But the rest, well... it wasn't everyday they got a good find like this. Worth the risk with a larger group.
As he started for the door, he passed the cashier's line and grabbed one of the mint tins. Then waited until Jesus was close to toss it to him before he pushed the glass door open with his back.]
[ It's a really good haul. Even with any looming danger behind the grate, with enough of them they can handle it and hell, it's all likely to be stuff they need. So really, he's in a good mood to start. He catches the tin easily, cocking a brow at it. ]
You trying to tell me something?
[ Ha ha ha. He opens it and pops one into his mouth anyway, offering the opened tin out to Daryl as he passes through the door to get outside, then pocketing it after. ]
Yeah. Pawn shop next.
[ This time it's Jesus that works the door open, a little deft work on the lock with his knife before he holds it open for Daryl to take point. Rotating jobs is helpful, anyway. ]
[Daryl took one of the mints for himself. He hadn't actually been trying to say anything. Just... mints kept better than gum and he figured the guy might like the treat. He doesn't say that, though. He instead makes a show of popping the one he'd snagged into his mouth as he followed Jesus out the door. All exaggerated motions for no reason than maybe it might get a smile off of him.
At the pawn shop, Daryl ducked inside, knife up and headed down the isles to the far side of the store. He hopped the counter and made his way to the back where the cage was. Still locked tight. Bolt cutters would have to be used to get anything out of there.]
Clear.
[He called when he was sure there weren't any lurkers waiting. Hell, there weren't any bodies period. It was like no one had come through the place in all this time. Sure there were electronics and shit that were pretty useless as is, but pawn shops took weapons in all the time, too. The knives if nothing else.]
Think we might have a gold mine here. This strip ain't on the beaten path, but between the pharmacy and this place, it don't look like more'n a few people tried to lay claim to nothing here.
[Which was really confusing given the literal two years that had gone by. But he also wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
'Law of averages', ain't that what Rick had said?]
[ He does know it's just a nice gesture. He appreciates it too, which is probably evident in the way he most certainly does smile at how patently ridiculous Daryl is about eating the damn mint.
The pawn shop is... Jesus keeps a lookout for anything that might pop up outside until Daryl calls the all-clear at which time he slips inside and lets the door shut behind him. He looks through shelves while Daryl's at the cage. Nothing too big right away but even--there are a couple toys hanging out and he pops open the backs of them looking for batteries.
There are two sets and he pockets them: better than nothing so long as they work, and they're not popped with corrosive acid so it's a good bet they might so long as they're not totally dry.
When Daryl speaks he looks over at him and nods before poking through a few more things. ]
You ever get paranoid because things seem to be going too well?
[ He knocks on a wooden knife block (empty) as he speaks. Knock on wood, etc. ]
[All the time. Daryl didn't have the means to open the cage just then, but as he made his way back along the counter, he pocketed a couple flip knives that looked useful enough.]
[ They probably should have brought bolt cutters. Next time. He's moving back through the aisles to get back toward the door as he speaks: at least they did bring their healthy senses of caution and paranoia. ]
Almost tempted to call it a day with these two, but I've always liked pressing my luck.
[Daryl shook his knife nervously, tapping his thigh with it. Then shook his head.]
Nah. No pressing luck. This is good enough. We get a few samples from here, from the pharmacy, and we go. Organize a group from both settlements to come clean it out together in a few days.
[His tone had gone terse and eyes darted toward the ceiling. There was a reason he'd asked about the helicopter. Jesus was right, this did seem too good to be true and the last time they had a haul like that had been back at the prison. Just before everything fell apart.]
[ As soon as he realizes it's Daryl being very serious about and cognizant of a possible threat something in him changes utterly. It's possible Daryl hasn't seen this side of him - if he has it isn't often - but his eyes filter sharp before he nods. ]
We'll move quick then head back.
[ And it really is quick - he grabs a few more things from the shelves, anything halfway useful that won't take up much room. Then he's jerking his head toward the door. ]
I'll fill the rest of the bag at the pharmacy. Get the bike ready and I'll be back out in three minutes. Holler if anything happens, I'll do the same.
[ Businesslike. Not worried or anxious, but tight. ]
[Daryl was grabbing a few more small knives he could shove in his pockets, a pair of collapsible binoculars, and a cigarette case before he jumped the counter again and started to cruise the shelves for anything else that was small and useful. His saddlebag couldn't care a lot, but three sets of walkie-talkies caught his eye and those were always good to have.]
Got it.
[He answered, hurrying out of the store on Jesus' heels, then jogging over to his bike. His head was up and his eyes alert for any danger. The place was still quiet, but he didn't want do be caught unawares.
He got his haul into his saddlebag, then glanced back at the pawn shop. It was unlocked now. If someone else managed to find this place in the next couple days before they could clear it out, they'd have a huge haul. He didn't like leaving it 'unguarded'. Easy access. After a glance toward the Pharmacy, he ran back to the shop and pulled the outer gate down. At least he could make it look like it was closed up tight.]
[ It's easy to slip out and over to the pharmacy, grabbing what he can from the shelves he can get to: hygiene items, OTC medications, a brief pause before he stuffs the rest of the bag full of packages of other hygiene items: tampons, pads, and so on - a big complaint from the women around Hilltop is a lack of them, he knows. When he sees them he grabs them.
He stops in the doorway before he leaves and considers the same thing. He can't lock the door again. Since there's a grate over the actual drug counter there's not one for the front doors, which is annoying.
He makes a split-second decision because one of the last things they need is for the dead to filter in aimlessly because the door swings open. One of the banks of shelves is loose so he carefully yanks it free. He might be small but he's stronger than he looks and it's not too difficult to drag it to cover the doorway. The scraping is kind of loud but if nothing was drawn by the bike earlier, well.
That done, he shut the door as well as he could and stepped back to where the bike had been left, adjusting the backpack on his shoulders. ]
[Daryl met him at the bike and slid on, turning the engine over. He scooted his butt as far forward as he could and waited only long enough for Jesus to swing in behind him and get a good grip on his waist before shooting them out of the lot and back up the road toward Hilltop.
About half-way there he noticed a reflection ahead of the, cresting over a couple hills in the distance. A car. Sunlight bouncing off it's windshield more than likely. That wasn't good. If it was one of the Savior's they'd have a problem. Daryl was still very much a wanted man.
He veered the bike off the road without saying anything and drove it into the woods that lined it. They were far enough out from where the car was that he could keep going and find an alternate route, or cut the engine and wait for them to pass.]
Car. About ten minutes out maybe. You wanna find another way back or play possum in the trees here for a bit?
[ Sliding onto the bike behind Daryl is easy, as is sitting so close and holding onto him to make sure he doesn't slide off. It makes it a little harder to watch the road in front of them but he can also glance behind them to make sure. All the same he notices the gleam in the distance not long after Daryl does so he doesn't have to ask why they turn off the road. He knows the stakes if it's the Saviors: when he squeezes onto Daryl a little harder it's instinctive and without thought; he doesn't even realize he's doing it.
When Daryl speaks his hold relaxes minutely and his answer comes immediately with a shake of his head. ]
You go further in and cut the engine. I'm going to see what's [ who's, more accurately ] coming by. Best to know what we're dealing with or hiding from.
[ His tone is firm but not quite sharp: still, it brokers no argument. He's perfectly ready to swing off the bike and dart off as he speaks. He's just giving it a second. ] If they're ten minutes out, then give me fifteen. Out to the road, wait for them, coming back in. I'll find you when I come back.
[ Jesus nods, taking the bag off and handing it off to Daryl. But he also stands there a moment and suddenly he's gripping Daryl's arm hard like a vise - not enough to hurt, but his fingertips press into Daryl's bicep and he looks at him, eyes steel. ]
I'm coming back. But if, if I don't come back in the time I said I would, you leave. You get out of here. I'll get back. Don't come after me.
[ He lingers like that a moment purposeful and sharp before he lets go. Then he's gone, darting off through the trees. With any luck his warning won't have to mean anything. ]
[Prick was gone before Daryl could protest it. Like hell he was leaving the fucker behind. If Jesus wasn't there when he said he would be, Daryl was going to hide the bike and go hunting. Ninja was good at hiding, but to a trained tracker, he left a trail easy enough to follow.
Daryl guided the bike through the trees for about three minutes and then cut the engine. The backpack got secured on his shoulders and he had to take a few deep breaths to calm his nerves as he counted off the seconds. He didn't really need to manually count them. Life on the road between the farm and the prison had pretty much trained everyone on an internal clock without needing to look at a watch. But it gave him something to do that wasn't worry.
Three minutes became five. Five became ten. Then he started walking the bike out toward the street, keeping his ears open for any odd sounds. Like another engine or a couple people trampling through the woods to look for him.]
[ Jesus knows Daryl won't take to the order - because that's what it is, an order - well, but it is what it is. He reaches the road again with about a minute to spare before he needs to be, practically invisible in the shadowed woods. He's alert and attentive and when the car passes by he
slinks back further out of sight instinctively. He recognizes the people in the car - two men and a woman. All of them have been to Hilltop at least once. Saviors--they're driving slow enough he holds his breath like they can hear it, heartbeat pounding in his ears. Then the car stops. He's invisible from the road, he knows he is, but his blood runs cold anyway. They're far enough away from him that when the woman gets out and looks at the edge of the road where it peters off into dirt he realizes that it's the tracks.
It's the fucking trail the bike left in their retreat.
Right. Okay. Well, they need to bail. So yeah, there might be some trampling. Jesus is quicker and quieter and knows where to go and now that Daryl is walking the bike it's less likely to leave discernible traces. He doesn't stop moving until he can see Daryl, see the bike. Fourteen minutes and forty-nine seconds. ]
Daryl.
[ It's a barely audible hiss and it's not clear where he is until he just is. Visible, whole, but worried and tight. ]
Daryl refrains from cursing aloud, but only to keep as much silence around them as he could. He doesn't stop walking the bike, either. But he knows they need to get back to the road so they could get out of there.]
Help me push.
[It was an order and Daryl jerked his head to the other side of the bike as he shrugged off the backpack. If he was going to drive, Jesus had to be the one wearing it. And as much as it was annoying passing it back and forth, he wasn't about to let someone else drive his bike if he didn't have to.]
We get to the road, we push the bike down the next hill, let it coast so there's no noise, and hope there's a turn off we can take to throw 'em off.
[ He doesn't speak. He just nods tersely, getting on the other side of the bike to push while simultaneously taking the backpack with his other arm and putting it on. Then going back to the work of pushing. He doesn't relax as they get further away; not being able to hear or sense movement in the trees is just making him more alert and anxious. When he finally speaks it's quiet still. ]
Three of them. If we can get them to separate I can pick them off.
[ Like hunting pack animals. Jesus the peacemaker, Jesus the one who would rather be invisible than kill, who only went in to the outpost to save other people--
--save other people.
So he's talking so matter-of-fact about killing people because he's protecting someone other than himself. Three guesses who, first two don't count. ]
It'd be easy. They know a bike's out here now. Can't risk it.
[Once upon a time, Daryl would have cautioned against it. Thrown out how if they didn't show back up when they were supposed to, people would come looking. Which could draw more attention their way. But after the week or more he'd had in Sanctuary - he never was sure exactly how long it'd been even if it hadn't been that long in the scheme of things - killing a Savior any chance he got was always an option he'd risk. Especially when someone else was advocating it.
There was a coldness in his eyes as Jesus said the words Daryl wanted to hear. Like a measure of his compassion had curled up and died along the way and all he had to replace it was a sick need to wash his knife in the blood of anyone that he saw as a threat. Or his fists. He wouldn't mind painting his knuckles red, neither.]
Then we get the bike to the road, push it over to the other side where it's hidden from view, and come back to take 'em down. You head back this way, and I'll head for the car to take 'em from that side.
[ No, Jesus sees that in him. As much as he hates every one of them he doesn't want to encourage the coldness that's taken hold of Daryl to grow in him, to coil around his heart like choking vines: no, he makes a firm decision right then. ]
No.
[ It's abrupt and sharp and obvious in that he has no intention of hearing an argument. ]
No, you're going to stay with the bike. If I can't take them all down cleanly, they're not going to see you. [ They've very nearly reached the road and he hasn't stopped moving, talking as they go. He's not looking at him any more. ]
I'm going to give you my mask and coat and you're going to watch and listen. I need you as a trump card just in case, not out where we're too far separated if it goes bad.
[ He does pause finally at the edge of the asphalt to make sure they won't be seen. ]
[Daryl hissed the words out, anger flaring through him followed by pain and an edge of fear. The kind that made his body shake with a pent up need to get it out. The same kind of need that had driven him, uncontrolled, to bash Fat Joey's head in. The lack of control that made him feel like a caged animal all over again.]
[ Before he pushes the bike any further he turns sharply, both hands grasping at Daryl's face. It's a move that should probably be rough or angry or something--anything other than what it is, which is more like the cradling reserved for a loved one. ]
I need you to. Please. I know it's asking a lot but let me do this.
[ His stance is tense and almost hunched - he's not afraid of Daryl, but of what might happen to him if something happens. ]
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[ Jesus didn't smoke - he'd flirted with the idea of it younger, but it never stuck. Perhaps a good thing, since they were so difficult to get hold of now. Maybe that's something they could grow: tobacco. Or weed, not his place to make that decision. Anyway. He watches Daryl complete this ritual of putting out the cigarette and sorting it out, nodding slightly. By the time the older man's hand is on the door handle Jesus has his own knife out in hand, grip comfortable even here.
There are no immediate threats but as he slips through the door there's a shuffle of movement further in that keeps him on alert. He gestures to Daryl that the immediate coast is clear before disappearing between two of the few aisles in the small place: half a walker - a crawler, really - trying to slowly pull its way toward him with its arms. ] Right.
[ It only takes a few seconds to stride forward and put it out of its misery. He flicks the gore off his knife after. ] Clear this side.
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Not something they needed to deal with immediately.]
This side's clear. Check the shelves for OTCs. Should be your side. I got hygiene.
[They weren't here to clear the place out. Yet. But checking to make sure it was worth coming back to once they got their sweep of the rest of the strip done was part of the plan.]
Got shampoo over here. Some of it might still be good. Soap, too.
[The shelves looked like they'd been gone through, but they weren't empty. Which was a huge blessing.]
This place might be worth bringing a truck out to.
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[ He works quick, moving through and taking a visual inventory. ] Not much by first aid left, but there are a lot of things people wouldn't have thought. Saline eye drops can be repurposed. Some regular cough and cold stuff too.
[ When Jesus breathes out it sounds like a sigh - relief, maybe. At least it won't be a total wash either way. ] Definitely. There's more than we can take like this, anyway. [ As he speaks he's moving to the counter - the metal grating is pulled down tight over the windows but it'd only take him a number of seconds to work the locks open with his knife. He doesn't though, not yet. It's right they don't have to deal with it immediately, but it can't hurt to take a look. He doesn't let out a low whistle but if he were someone else, he might've. ]
Yeah. Definitely a truck. It's a mess back there but there are packages for days. No way anyone had time to take just medicine and leave the packages behind.
[ Much less pull the grate back down. Which is promising. Really, really promising. And also means there might be more than meets the eye lurking back there keeping people from going too deep into it. ]
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As he started for the door, he passed the cashier's line and grabbed one of the mint tins. Then waited until Jesus was close to toss it to him before he pushed the glass door open with his back.]
Pawn shop next, right?
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You trying to tell me something?
[ Ha ha ha. He opens it and pops one into his mouth anyway, offering the opened tin out to Daryl as he passes through the door to get outside, then pocketing it after. ]
Yeah. Pawn shop next.
[ This time it's Jesus that works the door open, a little deft work on the lock with his knife before he holds it open for Daryl to take point. Rotating jobs is helpful, anyway. ]
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At the pawn shop, Daryl ducked inside, knife up and headed down the isles to the far side of the store. He hopped the counter and made his way to the back where the cage was. Still locked tight. Bolt cutters would have to be used to get anything out of there.]
Clear.
[He called when he was sure there weren't any lurkers waiting. Hell, there weren't any bodies period. It was like no one had come through the place in all this time. Sure there were electronics and shit that were pretty useless as is, but pawn shops took weapons in all the time, too. The knives if nothing else.]
Think we might have a gold mine here. This strip ain't on the beaten path, but between the pharmacy and this place, it don't look like more'n a few people tried to lay claim to nothing here.
[Which was really confusing given the literal two years that had gone by. But he also wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
'Law of averages', ain't that what Rick had said?]
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The pawn shop is... Jesus keeps a lookout for anything that might pop up outside until Daryl calls the all-clear at which time he slips inside and lets the door shut behind him. He looks through shelves while Daryl's at the cage. Nothing too big right away but even--there are a couple toys hanging out and he pops open the backs of them looking for batteries.
There are two sets and he pockets them: better than nothing so long as they work, and they're not popped with corrosive acid so it's a good bet they might so long as they're not totally dry.
When Daryl speaks he looks over at him and nods before poking through a few more things. ]
You ever get paranoid because things seem to be going too well?
[ He knocks on a wooden knife block (empty) as he speaks. Knock on wood, etc. ]
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You didn't see no helicopter on the roof did you?
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[ They probably should have brought bolt cutters. Next time. He's moving back through the aisles to get back toward the door as he speaks: at least they did bring their healthy senses of caution and paranoia. ]
Almost tempted to call it a day with these two, but I've always liked pressing my luck.
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Nah. No pressing luck. This is good enough. We get a few samples from here, from the pharmacy, and we go. Organize a group from both settlements to come clean it out together in a few days.
[His tone had gone terse and eyes darted toward the ceiling. There was a reason he'd asked about the helicopter. Jesus was right, this did seem too good to be true and the last time they had a haul like that had been back at the prison. Just before everything fell apart.]
Grab what you want. Let's go.
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We'll move quick then head back.
[ And it really is quick - he grabs a few more things from the shelves, anything halfway useful that won't take up much room. Then he's jerking his head toward the door. ]
I'll fill the rest of the bag at the pharmacy. Get the bike ready and I'll be back out in three minutes. Holler if anything happens, I'll do the same.
[ Businesslike. Not worried or anxious, but tight. ]
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Got it.
[He answered, hurrying out of the store on Jesus' heels, then jogging over to his bike. His head was up and his eyes alert for any danger. The place was still quiet, but he didn't want do be caught unawares.
He got his haul into his saddlebag, then glanced back at the pawn shop. It was unlocked now. If someone else managed to find this place in the next couple days before they could clear it out, they'd have a huge haul. He didn't like leaving it 'unguarded'. Easy access. After a glance toward the Pharmacy, he ran back to the shop and pulled the outer gate down. At least he could make it look like it was closed up tight.]
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He stops in the doorway before he leaves and considers the same thing. He can't lock the door again. Since there's a grate over the actual drug counter there's not one for the front doors, which is annoying.
He makes a split-second decision because one of the last things they need is for the dead to filter in aimlessly because the door swings open. One of the banks of shelves is loose so he carefully yanks it free. He might be small but he's stronger than he looks and it's not too difficult to drag it to cover the doorway. The scraping is kind of loud but if nothing was drawn by the bike earlier, well.
That done, he shut the door as well as he could and stepped back to where the bike had been left, adjusting the backpack on his shoulders. ]
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About half-way there he noticed a reflection ahead of the, cresting over a couple hills in the distance. A car. Sunlight bouncing off it's windshield more than likely. That wasn't good. If it was one of the Savior's they'd have a problem. Daryl was still very much a wanted man.
He veered the bike off the road without saying anything and drove it into the woods that lined it. They were far enough out from where the car was that he could keep going and find an alternate route, or cut the engine and wait for them to pass.]
Car. About ten minutes out maybe. You wanna find another way back or play possum in the trees here for a bit?
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When Daryl speaks his hold relaxes minutely and his answer comes immediately with a shake of his head. ]
You go further in and cut the engine. I'm going to see what's [ who's, more accurately ] coming by. Best to know what we're dealing with or hiding from.
[ His tone is firm but not quite sharp: still, it brokers no argument. He's perfectly ready to swing off the bike and dart off as he speaks. He's just giving it a second. ] If they're ten minutes out, then give me fifteen. Out to the road, wait for them, coming back in. I'll find you when I come back.
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Give me the bag.
[He held his arm out for it and met Jesus' gaze with a stern, but worried look.
Little shit better come back safe.]
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I'm coming back. But if, if I don't come back in the time I said I would, you leave. You get out of here. I'll get back. Don't come after me.
[ He lingers like that a moment purposeful and sharp before he lets go. Then he's gone, darting off through the trees. With any luck his warning won't have to mean anything. ]
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Daryl guided the bike through the trees for about three minutes and then cut the engine. The backpack got secured on his shoulders and he had to take a few deep breaths to calm his nerves as he counted off the seconds. He didn't really need to manually count them. Life on the road between the farm and the prison had pretty much trained everyone on an internal clock without needing to look at a watch. But it gave him something to do that wasn't worry.
Three minutes became five. Five became ten. Then he started walking the bike out toward the street, keeping his ears open for any odd sounds. Like another engine or a couple people trampling through the woods to look for him.]
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slinks back further out of sight instinctively. He recognizes the people in the car - two men and a woman. All of them have been to Hilltop at least once. Saviors--they're driving slow enough he holds his breath like they can hear it, heartbeat pounding in his ears. Then the car stops. He's invisible from the road, he knows he is, but his blood runs cold anyway. They're far enough away from him that when the woman gets out and looks at the edge of the road where it peters off into dirt he realizes that it's the tracks.
It's the fucking trail the bike left in their retreat.
Right. Okay. Well, they need to bail. So yeah, there might be some trampling. Jesus is quicker and quieter and knows where to go and now that Daryl is walking the bike it's less likely to leave discernible traces. He doesn't stop moving until he can see Daryl, see the bike. Fourteen minutes and forty-nine seconds. ]
Daryl.
[ It's a barely audible hiss and it's not clear where he is until he just is. Visible, whole, but worried and tight. ]
Saviors. Coming this way but slow.
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Daryl refrains from cursing aloud, but only to keep as much silence around them as he could. He doesn't stop walking the bike, either. But he knows they need to get back to the road so they could get out of there.]
Help me push.
[It was an order and Daryl jerked his head to the other side of the bike as he shrugged off the backpack. If he was going to drive, Jesus had to be the one wearing it. And as much as it was annoying passing it back and forth, he wasn't about to let someone else drive his bike if he didn't have to.]
We get to the road, we push the bike down the next hill, let it coast so there's no noise, and hope there's a turn off we can take to throw 'em off.
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Three of them. If we can get them to separate I can pick them off.
[ Like hunting pack animals. Jesus the peacemaker, Jesus the one who would rather be invisible than kill, who only went in to the outpost to save other people--
--save other people.
So he's talking so matter-of-fact about killing people because he's protecting someone other than himself. Three guesses who, first two don't count. ]
It'd be easy. They know a bike's out here now. Can't risk it.
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There was a coldness in his eyes as Jesus said the words Daryl wanted to hear. Like a measure of his compassion had curled up and died along the way and all he had to replace it was a sick need to wash his knife in the blood of anyone that he saw as a threat. Or his fists. He wouldn't mind painting his knuckles red, neither.]
Then we get the bike to the road, push it over to the other side where it's hidden from view, and come back to take 'em down. You head back this way, and I'll head for the car to take 'em from that side.
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No.
[ It's abrupt and sharp and obvious in that he has no intention of hearing an argument. ]
No, you're going to stay with the bike. If I can't take them all down cleanly, they're not going to see you. [ They've very nearly reached the road and he hasn't stopped moving, talking as they go. He's not looking at him any more. ]
I'm going to give you my mask and coat and you're going to watch and listen. I need you as a trump card just in case, not out where we're too far separated if it goes bad.
[ He does pause finally at the edge of the asphalt to make sure they won't be seen. ]
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[Daryl hissed the words out, anger flaring through him followed by pain and an edge of fear. The kind that made his body shake with a pent up need to get it out. The same kind of need that had driven him, uncontrolled, to bash Fat Joey's head in. The lack of control that made him feel like a caged animal all over again.]
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[ Before he pushes the bike any further he turns sharply, both hands grasping at Daryl's face. It's a move that should probably be rough or angry or something--anything other than what it is, which is more like the cradling reserved for a loved one. ]
I need you to. Please. I know it's asking a lot but let me do this.
[ His stance is tense and almost hunched - he's not afraid of Daryl, but of what might happen to him if something happens. ]
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shhhI love it, moves the plot along
8')
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