What did she expect the door in front of her to look like? Connie didn't have any expectations for the very reason that she usually headed into things without judgement behind her. In all fairness, it looked… normal. The paint was chipped around its edges, white peeling off light brown wood. She surmised it was because of the house being older. The years were never kind to things like this. Structures decayed slower depending on how sturdy people made them. Daryl didn't seem the type to be caring about upkeeping a house, however. And if he was, it would be a new surprise. He happened to keep doing that, surprising her that is. So, in a weird way, Daryl having this kind of door made sense. It represented where his attention was. When she stepped into his shop, she saw how spotless it had been and that might be something to attribute to Lydia, but then the work area of the garage had oil stains on the floor. All the stains seemed to be placed strategically in which she could guess he worked with precision and dedication.

If Daryl didn't care, then he didn't care. But, oh, if Daryl cared, she could tell that he cared.

Slowly, the obstruction in front of her came open to unveil a disheveled and, what appeared to be, sleep deprived Daryl. The dark circles surrounding his now blinking eyes (she assumed he was trying to blink away the morning light pouring in from behind her) told her he probably got little to no sleep during the night. A stroke of feeling sorry for him coming at this time hit her, unsure if she should step back and head home. He clearly needed to sleep longer than he did and she didn't want to be in the way of that.

Some of his hair was sticking up and she could see he wasn't wearing a shirt. She did her best not to look down, the raised skin she caught at a glimpse's notice not being something she wanted to dwell on. He most likely was awakened by her knock on the door. She tried not to use too much pressure when she did it. Since she had no perception of sound, trying to create certain noises for others to be alerted by such was a difficult task. She didn't always have to use the method, obviously, but when it did come around, she found herself trying to gauge what would be too much and what wouldn't. Maybe she should've shot him a text.

When he began to realize it was her standing there in front of him, he quickly started to retreat backwards. He didn't even bother to close the door, the wide expanse of his back shown to her enough for her to see more raised skin and moderately healed wounds that left their remnants behind. She didn't know what to make of it, a startled feeling in her chest fleeting away when she was trying to understand why he walked away so suddenly.

She hadn't come unannounced. She gave him the necessary time to plan during the week, so maybe he just forgot about their agreement. He confirmed yesterday for the two of them to head to the mall together in search of costumes, even if he denied dressing as anything and it would really only be to accompany her. She was grateful she wouldn't have to make the journey on her own since she needed a second opinion that wasn't that of her sister or a former student. That may have come off as a harsh call to create, but sometimes family feels obligated or students see too much of this academic side she felt the need to uphold. Going with Daryl (they were going to a party together after all) gave Connie a different freedom she couldn't have with anyone else present in her life.

She had friends… but she didn't know how to reach out. It had been a while of throwing herself into her work. Her attempts would be awkward. This felt right.

Connie tried to wait patiently, but her eyes wandered despite herself. They fell onto a beige couch when she realized she was peeking. Daryl hadn't formally invited her and she didn't think it would be right to assume his space was open just because of how he left the door. But then she saw a leather vest haphazardly slung over one of the armrests and she couldn't look away. There were beaten angel wings sitting atop of the article of clothing, one side clearly more intact than the other. It was a charming symbol, again, Connie not expecting it in the slightest, but also finding it defining who Daryl was.

Daryl came back and said something, but she saw him from the corner of her eye and couldn't read his lips from the angle. As he came closer, she turned to him and saw he adorned a regular t-shirt. The hair that had been sticking out had been somewhat tamed, but she was positive that it was simply gravity instead of a hairbrush.

"Sorry, I stayed up workin' on somethin' and fell asleep late," he said sheepishly. Some kind of a shame filled his features and she shook her head back and forth in response. He shouldn't have felt guilty in her eyes when she had made the same mistake in the past.

What were you working on? she wrote, genuinely interested in what could have stolen the hours of the night from him. Passionate people usually slept less when doing activities they cared about. Her earlier inclinations about him continued to be confirmed.

"Just this old bike in the back. Thought I almost had it." He possibly could have. Daryl seemed to be the persevering type.

You'll have to show me sometime. Connie could see this had a different effect on him since he slowly nodded his head. She didn't mean to invite herself where she wasn't wanted, but she didn't have time to overthink it whatsoever.

Daryl lifted a hand into the air and pointed to her car, the door shutting behind him as he did so. She already knew what he was going to say before he said it, but she still lingered on his facial features to see.

"Let's get goin'."

He was such an idiot.

He knew that prior to the excursion the morning held, but the situation amplified how he felt. He stayed up working on his bike and it completely slipped from his mind that Connie asked him to go costume shopping. The days tended to meld together and so he lost a sense of time. It was weird since he had been anticipating this day with both dread and excitement. He couldn't describe where the excitement came from, but he for sure was aware that the dread was from having to spend time with someone he could not pinpoint for the life of him. His mind raced with thought after thought and yet, he was still frazzled and confused to see Connie standing before him.

It wasn't right to ditch her at the threshold of his home, but his appearance wasn't the slightest bit put together. He didn't care how he looked and how he was perceived, but he couldn't fight off the impulse to scrounge for something to cover himself with. He did not see any visible signs of disgust from Connie's end, but she was also one of the nicest people he had come across. If she thought something negative, she was keeping it in her head and disguising it with a shining smile. Who knows what secrets lie behind those perfect teeth.

Perfect? Now, where did that come from?

His leg bounced due to his vibrating foot on the tile of the Halloween Spirit superstore's floor. He had seen some of these chain stores thrown together with haste, but this one in particular had been standing even before October. Anxiety contributed to his jittery frame as he not-so-patiently waited for Connie to emerge from the dressing room. She already displayed to him what she would look like as a pumpkin, a bumble bee, and a zombie. The cheap fabric of the clothes, though, felt way too off for him to be enthusiastic. For starters, the pumpkin outfit looked as if it was made of foam and glittery twine with how it twinkled in the light. It also hid most of her frame and something about that irked him to no end.

When it came to the bumble bee outfit (which was his favorite if he was being honest) she motioned to how itchy it was. The striped skirt and leggings had to go much to his dismay. He wondered how she would've reacted if he showed his interest in it, but trying to articulate such a thing could never work in his favor. He liked the color yellow on her and said like couldn't be said aloud without sounding like a creep. Besides, his way with words wasn't the best. Quips were just natural because of how he grew up. He scolded himself as he thought more about it.

When she came stepping with torn clothes and a monster branded, plastic package holding various makeup items inside, he scoffed and shook his head. Zombies weren't scary.

"You could do better than that."

I thought it was cute.

And then a lady in a form fitting cop uniform passed right by them to get to her husband and spun around. Unbeknownst to Daryl, the swivel of his head back to Connie indicated some unspoken thing he wasn't aware of. He realized what he had done when she rolled her eyes and scrawled something new in her notepad.

Not going to happen. I'm a teacher.

"That's not what I meant!"

He realized she was giving him a hard time when she cheekily grinned at him and went back into the dressing room. His jaw slackened and he could feel the heat rising up his neck. It was a good thing no one was invested in the sketchy dude sitting on a bench near the dressing room or else they would've seen how affected he became.

It's where he sat now, stuck in his own head. His mind wandered despite himself because of what was suggested. Connie, in something that is form fitting, pfft. It wasn't like she would look bad in it. The issue is that he knew she would look good in it. He saw her exposed legs before, the toned muscle of her arms through her sleeveless shirts, certain tops clinging to her torso to accentuate her figure. He noticed these things and kept them near and dear. It seemed he accidentally memorized them as he pictured her in the same uniform they gawked at simultaneously, a few others coming to his head that they passed by when she was choosing what she would try on.

His nails dug into the denim stretched over his thighs as he pondered how short of a skirt she'd be comfortable with, how much skin was allowed to be shown in a semi-public event without her being looked at wrongly for her profession. He understood how she was unwilling to be that inappropriate when he thought about how there'd most likely be pictures posted online. Keeping it tame/private so no snooping students/staff could judge her or report her to whoever the hell was in charge.

He considered if it would be worth the risk to suggest something risque, if she would consider it, too, just because it was him asking. She wasn't hard on the eyes, attractive if he had to admit it to himself. Maybe that's why he couldn't get the image of her in a skimpy Halloween costume out of his brain. As much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn't stop himself from roaming there.

"Hello? Earth to Daryl?" came from the side of him, snapping him out from his thoughts. He looked at the perpetrator, Lydia standing there hand-in-hand with Henry because of course she was. Georgia felt smaller and smaller every single day.

"What're you doin' here?" He asked, clearly feeling the shame coming on for even contemplating over Connie in such an inappropriate way. His voice betrayed him, too, sounding like he just got caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. In a way, that is exactly what happened, but Lydia didn't know that. So, he tried to sit up and act as normal as he could. That meant squaring off his shoulders and deadpanning.

"That's rude," she said and chalked his tone of voice as Daryl being Daryl, "you're supposed to greet your friends, not act like they're total strangers."

"We're friends?" He quipped back, the furrow of her eyebrows bringing amusement to his being.

"Anyways… We're here to buy costumes. Henry and I are going to be Princess Buttercup and her devoted farm boy," she announced. This caused Henry to glare slightly, but Daryl could tell there was teasing behind it.

Still, that didn't mean he caught onto the joke. "Am I supposed to know who those people are?"

"Yeah, you're old," Henry said. He must not have thought about it because he quickly muttered a soft 'sorry' afterwards. Daryl stared him down, his right eye practically twitching.

"What Henry meant to say is that they're characters from an older, popular movie. I think everyone's seen it."

Daryl shrugged his shoulders in response.

"Not me."

Lydia didn't press on the matter. It was a rather silly thing to continue on, anyway. Instead she changed the subject.

"What about you? What are you doing here?"

What could he say to that loaded question? Did Connie want Lydia to know about this? Lydia already knew they would be attending a party together and that the two of them seemed to be developing a closer friendship. But if Connie had left out the detail that the two of them would be out costume shopping, was it the right decision to unveil it?

Jeez, why did that even cross his mind? The two of them weren't sneaking around and they most definitely weren't doing anything to warrant suspicion. They were two friends helping each other out and that was that… so why was it so hard for him to say that?

Any chances of controlling the narrative flew out the window when Connie came out of the dressing room. Adorning her legs was a pair of black bottoms, contrasting to the streak of mint color on her tennis shoes. The belt she wore had a striking buckle, a slight patch of skin displayed under what seemed to be a grey tank top. He couldn't tell as a studded vest covered it, but not the sheen of her collarbone. She had on fingerless gloves on her hands and a bandana tied at her neck and so, he drew the conclusion of what she was. Sure, it could do with some altering, but he made a note in his head.

This was his new favorite costume.

"Wow, you look so cool," Lydia mused. A smile spread across her mouth for some reason as she looked back and forth at Daryl and Connie without any sense of shame. Daryl assumed it was because Lydia already had inclinations as to why he was sitting there. He didn't fit the mold of a Halloween aficionado so being there on his own merit was unlikely.

For a split second, Daryl intercepted the beginning of an expression on Connie's face. If he had to label it, he'd say she looked sheepish and weary of Lydia and Henry's appearance. Quickly, it shifted to a warm grin and she used her hand to wave off the reaction she received. He almost missed it and probably would have if he blinked.

When he was a kid, seeing teachers out in the open was like seeing an animal out in the wild. He would wave until he got older and then narrowly avoided interaction with any adult that could rat him out on his distance from school to his father. Maybe that was still the same for other kids, but it wasn't until now that he realized what it might feel like for a teacher. Children often overstepped boundaries without realizing and so the need for privacy increased. He blurred the lines between his work and home life and he could see how it reflected the same in Connie.

When was the last time she had a proper break? Their messages never addressed that, but when he thought about it, she was usually working on some kind of a project. He was privy to the knowledge that she enjoyed writing, but she hardly told him that's what she was partaking in. She was using her day off to spend it with him and he couldn't help the ignominy developing in the pit of his stomach at the fact that he couldn't bother to greet her primed and ready.

What a lousy friend he was.

"Great, it fits. Change back and then we can head out," Daryl said with a mustered amount of confidence from within. It wasn't in character for him to say something like that since this realm required a fashion decisiveness he didn't care for, but he wanted to get the two of them out of there. As much as he grew to like Lydia (and tolerate Henry) this evidently meant something to Connie for it to just be the two of them. The revelation sparked a pleasant affliction in him.

Connie's warmth changed to what he saw as gratitude as she waved to Lydia and Henry and went back into the dressing room. It left Lydia in bewilderment, but she looked around the aisles of the store. It was very much the desired reaction Daryl wanted.

"Guess Henry and I should get our search started. Let's go that way, see you Daryl," she said and started to walk off with her arm hooking into the crook of Henry's elbow.

Daryl wondered what the hell was expected of teenage romance nowadays because he could've swore he heard Henry proclaim "As you wish" as the two of them began their gait towards velvet gowns and tiaras.

The ride back to his house was quiet as most of their interactions were. The downside of being in a car with Connie was that he had to watch the road and could not turn away to read her handwriting. The angle probably didn't help her read his lips either. If she needed to say something, then she would find a way to gain his attention when they were at a stoplight. He presumed this after she showed him a picture of a poorly drawn dog at their first halt.

The upside of being in a car with Connie was for sure that stupid drawing.

"That's awful."

I'd like to see you do better.

"Can't, driving."

Back at the store, they made their way to the register and Daryl brought his wallet out. Connie tried to swat his hand away, but he looked at her with determination in his eye.

"I'm not buyin' a costume for me so just let me get it."

You're ridiculous.

He carried through with the transaction because he took advantage of how she needed time to scribble a response back. It earned him a dirty look, but he couldn't help but feel accomplished as he carried the packaged costume until they were in the parking lot. He didn't put it above her to go and ask for a refund so she could pay for it if he handed it back to her too soon.

Let me buy us coffee.

"Fine."

But as he drove through the drive-thru, he tried to get his wallet out yet again. She seemed to have read him, though, since she leaned over the console with her card in hand. She gave it to the lady at the window, body craned over Daryl's. It couldn't have been comfortable, but she was just as stubborn as him. Her actions left him crammed in his driver's seat, slightly embarrassed at the display knowing it was on camera and probably thought about by the cashier for the rest of the day. It was the closest they had ever been so it was definitely going to be on his mind for the rest of the day, too. He huffed out his displeasure and got their drinks after it happened, sneering when he saw the amusement on her face.

"That wasn't funny."

You shouldn't have broken your promise.

"I never promised I wouldn't pay."

Neither did I.

They drank their coffee on the way back. She got something sweeter and he stuck to the classic black. It burned his tongue at first, catching himself before he outright cursed. He didn't stop from flinching, Connie's concerned hand coming to touch his bicep. He nudged it away and nodded to indicate he was fine, but he wasn't. A nagging form of something kept tapping at the base of his skull and he couldn't decipher what it could be, what this was and why he couldn't indulge without worry. It was too foriegn for him to allow that kind of vulnerability.

When they reached his house, he parked the car and it prompted the two of them to remove their seatbelts. Neither of them got out. Daryl's hands were still gripping the wheel in front of him in a loose hold as he finally directed his attention to Connie. She took a sip of her drink before she directed her own to him.

It was short lived since she reached to grab her notepad and write something. He kept himself from peeking, thumbs drumming on the rim of the wheel.

Did you like the costume we got?

It occurred to Connie that she never asked for his opinion. The whole purpose of trying things on for him to check was to delve into his honesty. She appreciated it. She picked up on the fact that he was saving her from having to speak too much with her former students, but all she got out of the last try-on was "great, it fits" and that wasn't a satisfactory answer. She wanted to know what he really thought.

"Yeah, it's not bad, but I didn't see you grab that one. Where'd you get the idea?" he asked.

In truth, she hid it among the other costumes she chose to try on. She went with what might be flattering for the occasion, limited by the sexualization of feminine wear. If anyone went that route, they absolutely could and there would be more power to them, but she couldn't do the same at a public party. No one ever talked about how an online presence could affect a job. If she decided not to post anything, the same could not be said for her friends tagging her in photos. She wanted to be in the moment as much as possible as well to fondly look back on so she refrained from asking others not to photograph her or private their accounts. She didn't want to inconvenience anyone.

Then there was the comfort aspect. It was an odd balance of finding an outfit suited for both mobility and aesthetic. She wouldn't wear a sexy anything to a party, but she wouldn't divert to a nun's straight dress. That may have also been a no-no in that it could portray religious affiliation. She had steep rules to follow.

The clothing she did gather to try was innocent and complimentary enough. They landed in her limited range and she found them to be almost cutesy. She tried them and dictated in her head that she had to approve and Daryl had to approve. She didn't need to listen to him, but his opinion was valued and mirrored her own. It made the experience a lot more fun since she detested having to try clothes on, marketing schemes always having an intent to make it drastically harder for women to be comfortable in their own skin. As she guessed, the sizing for the costumes had been marked the same, but none of them felt like it as she found something was tighter or looser than the last.

The biker costume was going to be her backup plan when all else failed. She wasn't going to force Daryl to dress up, but since entering his house, the torn angel wings kept fluttering around her head. If she didn't like any of the other costumes, then she would see if she could get this one and then convince Daryl to try and match. That way no one was out of their element. She actually ended up liking it more than she initially thought she would.

I saw your vest earlier. I thought maybe we could be bikers together. She wrote slowly, hesitant in showing him for fear of coming off too forward. She was a confident woman, equally confident in her choices, but he managed to make her nervous somehow. There was a difference between pushing and guiding him out of his shell and she didn't want to cause him any discomfort by confusing the two.

Taking a deep breath, she showed her new message to him and watched his features. His eyes moved as he read each word, his expression ironically arduous to interpret.

"Oh… that."

His head turned from her for a moment, a moment too long since it caused discouragement to fill her veins. Regardless of what he was going to wear, she was going to wear what was picked. The idea of being able to match with him was not concrete. She just couldn't explain why she felt so disheartened even if she had been prepared for this, for him to say no.

What she didn't know was how Daryl hadn't worn it in six years. He thought about trying to again, but it was a reminder of how everything used to be. The vest held memories he wasn't sure how to approach. As much as others thought otherwise, Daryl was sentimental. When one tosses something aside, it merely becomes a part of the decor. To somewhat of the same effect, he moved it every now and then when he cleaned up and stopped himself from lingering to avoid the painful memories surrounding it.

Connie mentioning it reminded him of how long it had been, how childish it would be to simply turn away and act as if she scorched him when she hadn't the slightest clue. It wasn't her fault.

But the way her face fell… he couldn't reject the offer. It meant something to her. She most likely worked herself up to even ask. He also thought about how he was going to be the one moron who refused to dress up at a goddamn Halloween party. But, he couldn't say yes either.

"I'll think about it."

That was the truth. He'd probably be mulling it over until the very last second.

In response, she smiled and his doubts melted away. Those stupid concerns and hesitations were chased away by the way her face lit up all due to his half-efforted reply. Before he knew it, he was offering a half smile back. He didn't have time to think about how it may look, how insecurities usually kept him from displaying upbeat emotions, reveling in the minutes they still had together.

He could probably tell her about why he was so reluctant in the first place and she would understand, but it just wasn't something to unload. He wasn't ready to. He spent so long ignoring it all that changing it would mess up how he operated. He couldn't face those consequences, not yet.

He didn't know if he would ever be ready, actually.

When no one said anything, he looked over to his house and then back at her. It would be rude to kick her out of his car, but he also did not know if she had some place to be. They achieved their objective and then some. How do people know when an outing is over? How do they extend the time? Did he want to spend more time with her? It's not like he wanted her to go so soon.

"Do you, uh… do you wanna' come inside?" felt weird coming from his mouth, and once it did, he wanted to kick himself in it. Especially when he received I have some work to get to at home back.

"Right, right, sorry," he attempted. Maybe he overstepped, but he was trying to recover. He must've not noticed how his head bowed because he suddenly felt her hand tucking at his chin to direct his attention back to her. His skin tingled where she touched it. It was barely there, a butterfly's pressure.

Some other time. You're so much fun to hang out with. I'll be seeing you.

She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, but he felt like a fish out of water. He watched as she slid out of the car and made her way to her own with a definitive interest. There were thought after thoughts swarming in his head, buzzing with confusion and something nice. He didn't look away until he found that she was driving off and that his eyes weren't capable of seeing that far of a distance.

The next time he would see her would be for the party. There were a few things he needed to get in line along with his head. She had a habit of making him feel as if he was walking uncharted territory so he needed to prepare as best as he could. She managed to have him out of his comfort zone at the school dance, but this was different.

This wasn't some other favor and he didn't care how her friends might look at him. All he wanted was for her to have a good time, especially after today.