Halloween. Or so they assumed, given the lack of calendars available in the post-apocalyptic world. The irony of celebrating such a holiday was not lost on the prison's residents...every day of their lives was like Halloween night and slasher films combined. But, it was an attempt at some sort of normalcy, and a treat, for the children inside the musty, concrete prison. Stale or not, the candy that had been found across the span of a few runs was appreciated by the younger crowd, and even by some of the older ones who had snuck a piece or two from the stash. The pumpkins Hershel had been able to slowly grow were another bonus; a symbol of a simpler time.
A sight that was a little less than normal was one gruff, crossbow-carrying hunter carving at a poor, unsuspecting pumpkin at the metal courtyard tables; designated as the Jack-o-Lantern station for the day. A pretty woman practically beaming at him from behind her own pumpkin across the table from him.
"Ya grin any wider, s'gonna break ye're face, Sunshine..." Daryl pointed out in a mutter, working on carving a half-decent face into the orange surface.
"I just never thought I'd see the day when the oh-so-badass Daryl Dixon carved himself a jack-o-lantern like a regular human being." She continued grinning, her own smaller hands dripping with goopy strings.
He snorted. "S'either this or listen to ya nag an' yammer on 'bout it 'till that pretty li'l face of yours turned blue...di'nt give me much of a choice."
She cocked her head and stayed silent for just a moment. "You think I'm pretty, Dare-bear?" She asked, sugar sweet, and using the nickname he claimed to hate so much.
Next thing she knew, a wet, goopy mess hit her cheek with a wet slap and her pink lips formed a little 'O' while Daryl busily carried on with sawing, the pile of pumpkin guts off to his side just a tiny bit smaller. A slight curl at one side of his lips being the only other indication that he'd delivered the sudden surprise.
The next sound to pierce the cool air was an overtly masculine "what the...FUCK!" and a feminine snigger.
A handful of the slimy innards of her pumpkin slid down Daryl's back beneath his ever-sleeveless flannel and vest and another between his prominent collarbones, a cold, wet trail left in their wake. Her smile was victorious; it wasn't easy to get the jump on the expert tracker and hunter that currently had his hard, blue gaze trained on her. Somehow, managing to look just as cool as ever while he attempted to catch the orange pulp before it could slide down the gap in the waistband of his worn pants.
"Looks like you made a little mess of yourself there, Dare-bear." She pointed out matter-of-factly, playful smugness seeping through the words.
Having finally discarded himself of the slimy innards, his eyes narrowed slightly as he appraised the younger women's smirk for a moment.
Apparently making up his mind about something eventually, he stalked over to the position she'd ran to after dumping the orange stuff down his clothing, stopping mere inches from her. Her smug expression faltering just slightly at the sudden close contact and heat radiating off of him.
Still holding some of the pulp in his calloused hands he deliberately trailed a slow, slippery line from the hollow of her neck and stopping just above the pointed dip in her simple V-neck. His cool blue eyes following it and then flicking back up to hers; his own smug face and arched brow graced his rough features.
"Jus' wait 'till we get back to the cell...see how much of'a mess I can really make, woman..."
And with that, he strode off and through the prison doors; leaving the suddenly very-warm woman in his wake...and a grinning orange face staring at her knowingly.