Daryl
The snake is good. So he digs in and focuses on the taste, the texture, the chewing. Satisfying his hunger. It's simple and easy. He's got his mind on the food and not anywhere else. It ain't places it don't need to be at. Until she starts talking.
He's not really listening, not until she mentions her father. Something tightens in his gut at that, then he feels a surge of anger. But he taps it down and keeps eating. But she's talking and he catches something about her wanting to get a drink. She think they can just go hit the corner bar?
"Well, enjoy your snake jerky." He hears her feet, the snick sound his knife makes as she pulls it out of the log. That's all too familiar, that's what happened when she got it in her head to track. He realizes she's gone, in the woods, and he sighs and puts down his snake.
He ain't traipsing around to get the girl a drink. A drink, what is she even thinking? Frivolous whim that makes no sense. He curses under his breath and grabs his crossbow. Beth's out of sight but she's leaving an obvious trail, he can practically see her stomping along in her damn cowboy boots, being loud and isn't that just adding to the stupid.
He spots her, hiding behind a tree, he sees the group of walkers staggering toward her. Picks up his pace slightly, eyes on her, she's got out his knife and she's tossing a rock. Smart. At least she hasn't gone totally stupid.
She's shaking, he doesn't need to be close to her to see that. She's afraid, like she should be. Good he thinks and he walks up towards her, his foot hits a twig and it snaps. Beth jumps and turns and he thinks she looks relieved to see him. He nods at her and turns back around, walking back toward the camp.
He thinks it's over. She went out, she saw the walkers, she realized she's acting stupid. Beth ain't stupid, she's already shown him that since the prison… Before that, he's seen it. He takes a breath, trying to push away the irritation. She's just addled because everything went to shit.
"I think we made it a way. I think we need to go that way to find the booze." He steps over their makeshift alarm as she speaks, she's right behind him so she walks right into it, making the metal clang.
"What the hell, you brought me back? I'm not staying in this suck-ass camp." She holds up her hand, flipping him the bird.
His irritation spikes, he moves forward and grabs her hand. "Hey, you had your fun."
"What the hell is wrong with you? Do you feel anything? Yeah, you think everything's screwed. I guess that's a feeling. So you want to spend the rest of our lives staring into a fire and eating mud snakes? Screw that! We might as well do something. I can take care of myself and I'm gonna get a damn drink."
She's talking just to hear herself, doesn't stop for him to answer any of her damn questions, not that he would, then when she's done yelling she's off again. Stalking away with annoying speed. And he has no choice but to follow her as she goes off for a damn drink. Maybe she can take care of herself, he doesn't know if that's true or not. Probably not with how stupid she's acting. He resigns himself to following her, not having control over what the hell he does for the day. It makes an uneasy deja vu fall on his shoulders, but he rolls them and pushes the thought away.
"Is kind of suck-ass," he does mutter though with one last glance at their camp.
"Golfer's like to booze it up, right?"
He doesn't answer her, doesn't even know the answer. What the hell he know about golfing and country clubs. He looks back at the walkers further up the field but close enough to scent them. She does too but she shrugs it off and heads toward the building, saying something about people maybe being inside.
Dead people is what he thinks.
Front door is locked tight, so the find another which opens easy. He goes in first, but no walkers are in sight. "Come on," he mumbles as he walks in, taking in the scene. It's gruesome and pathetic. Seems a bunch of people decided to hold up at the Country Club and then opt themselves out.
Several walkers are hanging from the ceiling, snarling at him and Beth, having no way to sate their hunger. He figures anyone who decided to die that way, never would have they'd known their reanimated corpse was going to be stuck swaying forever.
He finds a flashlight among the corpses on the floor. There here on the girls dumb quest but he may as well sweep stuff that might be of use. Find things. He looks around the damn place and thinks what a waste. Bunch of rich people probably were boozing it up, having a grand time just doing nothing, not doing a thing and then when the world falls apart the first thing they all do is end it.
It grates on his nerves, he's pissed and he looks at her. Beth. She tried to end it once he remembers. He remembers Andrea and Lori sniping at each other over it, and Andrea going on about the girl chose to live. Live. Yeah, finding booze because she wants to do something. Stupid.
He bends down, spotting a good backpack, sturdy, durable. It's contents are half spilled out. It's money and jewelry, it's stupid rich crap that doesn't mean shit anymore. But just like that Merle's in his head. iLook at shit, that there would've been worth a pretty penny, Little Brother. All these rich assholes, making sure to bring gold to the end of the world. /I
"Why are you keeping that stuff?"
Her question makes him realize he's shoving it all into the backpack but follows through, he knows it's stupid but Merle's laughing in his head. The outside door starts to rattle, the door is all glass, the golf club he used to lock the doors isn't going to keep them out. "Come on," he mutters again, slinging the bag over his shoulder. They run through a set of large black wood doors and he grabs onto them, there heavy and he slams them shut.
He notices she found a flashlight too and nods at it, or her, he doesn't know. They're in some kind of hall. It's got awards and crap on the walls, pictures of smug rich men's faces. He wants to punch them.
"Hey," Beth says.
He keeps walking.
"Knives," she says and he turns. Seeing her stopped at some kind of glass cases. He walks over and shakes his head. Of course they just have a bunch of hunting knifes on display in the middle of a hallway. Rich people.
"Think their sharp?" Beth asks.
"Might be, yeah," he mutters. He'll give it too her, smart question. "Stand back."
He smashes the glass once she's stepped back. They both freeze after, looking down the hallway her left to right, him right to left. Another beat but nothing comes snarling after them.
He puts the flashlight beam on the case and Beth is back and she picks up a knife that's it's a light tan leather sheath. It's a good size for her, better than his big hunting knife. She pulls the knife out and Daryl thinks it's pretty, fancy, pearl or something with silver. He rolls his eyes.
"It's not too heavy," Beth is testing it's weight, holding it right, she doesn't seem to be even looking at it as anything but the blade. Ain't totally lost her mind. "How do I test the edge?"
"You don't," he yanks it from her hand. It is a good weight for her, her thinks, she's right. He turns around, sees a wall about five feet away from them and throws the knife at it. It embeds right in the wall.
"Nice shot."
"Hmmph. It's sharp." He pulls it out and hands it to her.
She takes it, puts into the sheath it came with and then takes off the sheath he gave her. He takes his knife back, putting it on and feeling a lot more comfortable again. Felt wrong with it off, but the girl needed a weapon. Once finished he looks up and she's looking at him. Wide blue eyes, staring in that way she does and he glares back.
Her eyes narrow a bit and she shrugs. "Thanks."
"For what? You still want that drink?"
She nods and turns around, he sees the small shaft of light from her flashlight in front of her as she walks. "I need it," she says.
Daryl rolls his eyes.