She can't see much as they pass by all of the wide and open space surrounding the truck and the road. The pastel pink glow of the falling sky is gone and replaced by the white gleam of the moon and the stars, shining down and lighting the large patches of grass and field and home. Beth cranes her neck back to look up at them through the sunroof for a moment, while Daryl sits still straight in his seat and makes his way down the long of the road; passing by the open land, houses spread far apart and outlined by short wooden fence postings. It's not too far of a drive before he slows to a traffic light and waits for the signal, while she twirls her phone in her palms - counting out the vibrations pulsing against her hands and forcing herself to not study the man to her left, before he can pull out to their right onto an off street.
An old and steadied Waffle House stands before them when they pull cleanly into the lot, the yellow wrap around of the top of the building glowing brightly into the dead of the night. There's a few cars settled in the surrounding spaces, as Daryl wedges his truck into an empty spot and turns off the engine.
Another buzz zips out from her phone and Daryl glances down towards where she's holding it, for a discrete moment, before pushing his side door open and smoothly lowering himself to the ground. It's so quiet and so clean that Beth finds herself pausing briefly in her seat, where she's clicking open her side, watching him close the door behind him and wondering how a man of such muscled mass can possibly move so silently.
After grabbing her change purse from her backpack, she's out of the car a few seconds later - trailing behind where he's moving swiftly towards the front door. Beth notices a pair of large angel wings stitched onto the back of his vest, for the first time, as they're walking up the concrete of the sidewalk. The wings are long and wide and detailed with a far faded cameo fabric. She can barely tell that the pattern is even there underneath the yellow sheen of the light, but it is, light and worn just like the skin of the leather.
A small gust of wind plays with a few strands of her hair and there's a slight chill in the air that Beth hadn't felt earlier in the day while she was sitting on the curb, that has her pushing her sweater closer to her body, before following him into the safety of four walls.
A few heads raise when the pair of them enter, including an older women stood behind the counter, with long white hair, in a short sleeved blue button down that all of the other employees are wearing; her eyes gliding kindly over Beth before squinting unsuredly at the man she's arrived with. Most of the people inside stay focused on their meals or their coffee or the people that they're with; ignoring them completely, like civilized people do. But, naturally, a few patron's interests peak, momentarily, at their arrival. Glancing ahead to the man striding in front of her, towards one of the brown booths in the back, with his long and unruly hair, his dirty work boots, his leather vest, and his frown and thinking of herself in her fluffy sweater and her sweet cowboy boots - bright blonde hair pulled into a neatly done braid...she's really not all that surprised.
They look completely mix matched.
They look out of place, with each other.
They look like the strangers that they are.
Beth brushes her fly ways behind her right ear and offers the woman a small nod, before picking up her pace and a sliding into the booth that Daryl has already tucked himself into. She sits across from him; settling her change purse and cellphone down on the green of the tabletop and crossing her legs carefully at her ankles, as not to come into contact with him down below. Daryl's scratching at his arm, again, and looking away from where Beth sits - over to the window and out to the road. His entire demeanor is back to how was as he stood over where she sat in the Exxon parking lot. He's uncertain and uncomfortable sat here with her, she can tell. It's carefully but not completely masked, now that he's out of the familiar - home field advantage - territory of his own vehicle. With the evidence laid out in front of her, Beth's decided that he seems determined to pay as little attention to her being with him, as he possibly can; his eyes constantly settling anywhere other than her face - only looking over when he feels she won't catch his notice.
Beth can't focus on that, though. She can't feel too worried about it. If Mister Daryl, here, ain't interested in speaking with her during the entirety of this trip, she's fine enough going along with it. He is only giving her a ride into Atlanta, after all, and his main incentive for this mind melding generosity is the money she's promised to get to him when they arrive and far less of a hidden desire to find himself a new friend. Their silence isn't casual in the way it was for the hour that they spent on the road, though, and Beth fiddles with her hands while she tries to decide if she should speak.
Her phone buzzes, before she comes to a conclusion on what to do, however; the zip of energy burning suddenly through the table, startling her feet apart to slap against the floor and Daryl's eyes away from the window. Beth frowns nervously and slides the interruption, of nothing but their muzzled silence, closer to where her chest is pressed against the side of the table. She clicks her screen on to see that her dying battery has drained further into the red zone, before stabbing open her messages.
um what is that supposed to mean exactly?
what do u mean u 'figured it out'?
beth ur not doing something stupid right?
did haley come get u?
i mean from what you've told me i doubt one of the other girls you live with took their heads out of their asses for a few minutes to help someone else...
u get on another bus?
hello beth?
did your phone die or something?
bethy you'd tell me if something was wrong yeah?
Beth's thumb slides smoothly against the screen, as she scrolls through her sister's onslaught of focused worry and tries to think of what she should say back - what she can say back that won't stress Maggie out more than she already is. There isn't many ways that Beth can think of that don't sound crazy. She gets it - her sister's worry - she really does. If Maggie called her, for some reason, from another state with a cry in her voice and panic on her sleeves, Beth might respond the same way. (Even though the chances Maggie would ever choose her little sister for help, of all people, seeing as Beth's got no car and no money and lives in New York - is slim.) Still, she takes a second to feel guilty that she wasn't sure what to say, earlier - wasn't sure how to describe her plan with Daryl, a man she just met, without causing a tornado of worry from the Greene's.
If she says the wrong thing, here, Maggie will start a chatter chain line of doom and her family (and probably Glenn's family, too) will know within ten short minutes, that Beth's sitting in a booth in a Waffle House in Wherever, Virginia with a man that isn't wearing any sleeves.
Beth can already imagine the Older Brother Fury (something that she and Maggie have named over the years of his shuffling up to quivering nervous potential boyfriends or girl's starting stupid rumors about them during school) of Shawn if he learns that his baby sister is hitching a ride with a man in his thirties.
...Forties?
She literally doesn't know.
"That-" Beth's surprised as she's suddenly listening to Daryl clear his throat - not in any way suspecting he would find a way to be the first of them to discover a decent reason to speak. She can see the movement of his hand, from above where she's reading through her novel of texts, as he points at her phone with his pinkie finger. "...Earlier, you mentioned a 'Maggie.' That her?"
Beth glances up to eye him and sees the old women from before walking down the isle with two menus tucked under her arm and a pot of coffee in hand, "Yeah, it is." Daryl hums while the women reaches the table.
"Hey there, folks," she places the menus down to the table and holds up the arm holding the pot. "Coffee?"
"Nope," Daryl mutters quietly and grabs one of the menu's in front of him, while Beth responds with a, "No thank you," of her own.
"What can I get ya to drink?" the woman asks, her voice rumbling with years and years of use, and waits for them to give her a response. Which they do - Beth as politely as she can manage, despite how preoccupied she is with both her worry and her hunger, and Daryl at his consistant low grumble of breath. "Well, alrighty," the women eyes Daryl for another pregnant pause, before turning to look at Beth. "I'll give you both a chance to figure out what you want."
Beth lifts her head from where she's distractedly reading, to watch the women leave, before pulling the left over menu to her and trying to focus on the front side and the multiple pictures of eggs done up in all different ways. "...Maggie's my sister," she continues where she left off, as she eyes the prices next to each meal, warily. Her change purse pretty darn thin and she knows she can't swing too much.
"Hmm."
"I called her, earlier. Before I called Daddy, even," she adds. "Neither of them answered the phone, though."
Maybe some bacon? She can probably afford a few slices of bacon.
Daryl places his menu back down onto the table and glances behind the top of the booth to check if their waitress is coming back to take their orders, but she's finishing filling their drinks and saying something Beth can't hear, to a man in a red cap, sitting by himself at the front counter. "Yeah," he fidgets back around when he doesn't see what he wants. "You said."
"I get it, though, you know?" she says, unsure with the way that Daryl's knotted his hands together, if he's waiting for her to shut her trap or somethin' along the lines of silence. "...'cause the house is so busy."
He's spared from pulling another two worded answer out from the deep depths of his soul, when the women returns with two cups in hand. "One water," she carefully places a glass in front of Beth - water is free - and two straws. "And a Coke. You both figured out what you want?"
"The large chili," Daryl answers and looks to Beth for a clear moment, picking up his menu and reaching out to take hers from her, as well, to start stacking them both in a neat pile at the end of the table.
"Oh, I'll just take the side of bacon," she looks from him to their waitress. Barbra - the small white name-tag pinned to the black apron she's got settled over her shirt, reads.
Daryl pauses in his actions, though, and looks at her with an eyebrow raised. "A side'a bacon?" he questions and drops his gaze pointedly to where her stomach is hidden under the table. "Ten minutes ago, you were rumblin' something fierce."
"Oh, yeah, well," Beth feels her cheeks heat up and she glances to where Barbra is looking between them. "All my money's on the bus and I only got a bit with me."
"That why you got water? 'Cause you only got a couple bucks?" he cocks his head. Barbra does, too, though it's directed to the man questioning her order.
Beth doesn't respond to that, out loud, she just shrugs her shoulders and tries to fight off the hunger pain in her stomach. It feels like she hasn't eaten in a week, which is stupid, because she had that granola bar, today. "The bacon's fine, thanks Barbra," Beth nods decidedly.
But, Daryl does the opposite in the same exact manner.
"Nah," he shakes his head - the concern from the Exxon parking lot and the concern from the truck when her stomach first rolled, flashing through his eyes. It's still careful and hidden and Barbra's still looking at him like he's something she should be worried about for the blonde sitting across from him. But, Beth's looking at him like a man putting himself way out of his way for something so unimportant; she's okay - she'll make it to Atlanta without dying of starvation, she's sure. "Get what you want, girl. It's fine."
"Daryl, I don't wanna put you out. You're already doin' so much for me."
He shakes his head, again, "Get what you want. It don't matter."
Beth watches him swiftly drag her menu back away from the pile he's created, with gratitude, before going to say something else. Her travel companion is looking down at her menu, himself, though, waiting for her to make a choice.
"Okay, umm," Beth hastens to glance over what she's already done, as to not put their waitress out anymore than she already has. "Guess I'll take the blueberry waffles, with that same side of bacon, and an orange juice?"
Daryl's head tips in something of a nod and he pulls her menu out of her hands and places it back in his stack.
Barbra watches him do this, before writing down her choice. "Alright sweetheart. I'll get that going for you," she hums, grabs the menus away from the table, and turns away on a hesitant foot and back to the kitchen.
"Thank you," Beth says, as soon as Barbra has walked away. "I can add that on to what I'll get you in Atlanta, but that was very kind." Another silence settles over them, as Daryl clears his throat in what she supposes is an "It's fine" of some kind, and Beth thinks that maybe she should start a tally of how often they'll settle into this lack of words - comfortable or not. She reckons it'll be often, with the way Daryl seems to retreat once more than a few syllables are spoken at a time.
Everything about this way of being should feel worrisome - that this man she's traveling with doesn't seem to want to speak to her, at all. But, this is his third act of kindness in less that two hours and she's still not bothered in a way that she knows that someone like Haley would be.
Haley's patience for this silence would've ended before her and Daryl had even pulled out of the Exxon parking lot, Beth's more than positive. Her sharp tongue would cut at the silent and gruff being before her, and she'd probably end up with her bottom on the side of the highway and in the mud. Beth doesn't feel this same anger and annoyance that Haley would probably feel, with Daryl's lack of speech. But, she does feel a little antsy at their loss of what to say. She feels like she's got a lot to talk about, even if Daryl doesn't, and she wonders if his knuckles will pull back together, if she unburdens some of herself, in a less frantic tone than she had when she'd been desperate for him to allow her to climb inside of his truck.
"Maggie's usually the person I turn to if I need help with something," her mouth opens before her mind can catch up with it and she reaches back out for her phone to steady herself. "Yeah, growin' up any time I had anything resembling a problem, Maggie always just knew, you know? It's a sibling thing, I figure..." Daryl's eyes train up to her, from where they'd been focused on the tabletop, and he taps a finger in place. "Siblings are just like that - always around to help you out when you need it. I mean, I suppose some aren't like that...but, the best do their best, even when it doesn't got a prayer of doin' any good. Even when it sometimes does more harm than good."
She taps at a button and opens up a response, while Daryl clasps his hands together - his thumb tracing a repetitive pattern into the flesh of his fist.
"If there was ever a boy about, looking for my affections or whatever it is that teenage boys are looking for -"
"- They're lookin' for your affections, alright."
Beth looks up from where her thumbs are hovering over the keypad at his remark. She knows what he means, of course, she ain't stupid. But, Daryl's face is as flat and closed off as it was before. His eyes aren't trailing over her in the way those boys probably were doing behind her back. He says it as fact. He was a teenage boy at some point (although Beth can't pull an image into her head of what a teenage Daryl could've possibly looked like), so he probably knows for sure. His simple honesty makes her huff a laugh and lets the tiniest bit of tension drip from her shoulders, before looking back down to the phone.
"Yeah, affections," she grins and tilts her head side to side a few times. "If I came to her needing help with them or anyone like them - whether it was getting them away or pulling 'em in, she always found the time to give some advice or handle it, even though she's older with better things to do. So, I called her, first."
"...Didn't answer, though."
"No, but...I'm fine with a free pass on it," Beth hits a few buttons. "She's getting married this weekend, after all...to Glenn. His family owns a pizza house in Atlanta. You might've had it, being from Georgia."
Daryl keeps moving his thumb, "Maybe."
Hey Mags, my phone's on minimum battery and I can't find a plug. I've got a ride and you don't have to worry.
"Anyway," Beth feels a large sigh roll through her body and threaten to escape. She caps it as best she can, releasing a smaller show of exasperation. Daryl's just going to be leaving her in Atlanta, when they arrive, but she doesn't know who she'll be able to rook into picking her up from there, yet, and she doesn't want to seem ungrateful when they do. Not that Daryl seems the type to gap out everything she tells him on this journey to any of her relatives. "Everyone's spending all of their time getting ready for it...it's why I'm on my way home. For the whole wedding experience. And, like I said, the house is busy, so..."
I know you will, though. So, the second I find a plug, I'm gonna call mom and give her the details, so y'all wont send out a brigade. I promise I won't forget. Love you.
Daryl watches her finish typing out the rest of her message to Maggie, before she shuts off her phone to save what's left of the juice; his eyes hiding just well enough behind the bits of rough cut hair that falls in his face. She thinks that he probably cuts it, himself, whenever he decides that he can no longer see.
"So, what about you?" Beth pushes her phone to the side and tucks her ankles back together.
Daryl's finger stops tapping and he squints at her face, "...What about me?"
There's a large bang of a pan, from somewhere behind them in the kitchens, and a rounding laugh from the man sitting at the counter, in response to whatever just happened. Everyone inside the diner is settled into comfortable chatter and Beth can hear a few of the waiters, up front, talking about their nights, before.
"You're from Georgia, right," she states. "You know why I'm going home. Why are you?"
"'Cause that's where I live," Daryl hums and pulls his hand back to rub at the flesh of his arm.
Beth laughs lowly - pulling his gaze back to her - and bounces her head in acknowledgment. "Well, yeah," she grins and widens her eyes in question. "Okay, so why were you in Virginia, then?"
"Ain't no concern of yours."
"Oh, come on!" Beth smiles and reaches a hand out to tap briefly at his arm, which immediately tenses underneath her touch, even after she's already pulled away. Apparently, she's changed her mind. She feels a need to fill their silence. "If it's something embarrassin' I promise I won't tell anyone," she teases - even though she's not sure they're in a position where the man will appreciate such a thing.
Daryl pulls his arms completely away from the table top and tucks them into his lap. He looks away from her and back out of the window, where cars are still zipping by on the highway. They sit there for a few minutes; Daryl staring outside and Beth's smile fading from her face with each passing second, as she loses any hope that he plans to respond.
"Visitin' my brother," Daryl finally mumbles - the muscle in his jaw jumping as he clenches his teeth together. "And picking up the bike."
"Oh?" she's more than a little surprised that he pulled the conversation back, but Beth recognizes effort when she sees it. "What's his name? He lives out here?"
"His name's Merle...and yeah, I s'pose he does," he nods his head slightly and coughs. "For now, at least."
"The motorcycle's your's? Or his?"
"...It's his."
Her interest peaks, even though her stomach growls painfully, "Do you know how to ride a motorcycle, though?" Daryl nods and she leans forward onto her elbows, "Oh, that must be so much fun! I've never been on a bike, you know. Think my Daddy would kill me if he even guessed that I was thinkin' about it."
Daryl shrugs, "It's not bad, 'long as you're not a jackass 'bout it."
"Got a lot of experience with people being jackasses about it, then?"
"A bit."
Beth can feel the uncertain tension from before, when they first sat down into the booth, dripping out of bones. This ain't so bad, really. He's not too talkative on his own, clearly. But, her small pushes seem to be doing something of the trick. It's better this way, she thinks. Beth's okay with silence - a lot of the time, she prefers silence to unnecessary chatter. But, her travel companion and her still have something of an eleven hour drive ahead of them and the idea of getting to know the person behind the wheel, a little bit, seems the smart thing to do. Seems the thing Shawn would be yelling at her to do.
"You said," she settles into their currently established atmosphere and allows herself to relax into a more comfortable seated position. "- that your brother lives here 'for now.' Is he moving?"
"No."
"No?"
Daryl narrows his eyes and clutches his hands where they rest in his lap. "...He's in The Pen," he says lowly - his voice strategically sharp. "I was just gettin' his shit and making sure he wasn't planning on stabbing anyone."
Beth's eyes open and her mouth hovers in a failed attempt to respond.
"Don't need him in there any longer than he's gotta be," he finishes and turns back out to the window.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. You ain't the dumbass."
Barbra shuffles up through the aisles with a tray perched carefully in one hand. "Here you are, dearies," she chimes - her voice too chipper for the mistake Beth's stepped into. A glass of orange juice is set in front of her, while Barbra places the waffles in front of Beth and a yellow bowl full of chili in front of Daryl. "They're both hot, so be careful, you hear?"
Beth watches her turn on her heels and walk away from them, before turning her focus on Daryl who's pulling a spoon out of a wrapped napkin. She's not sure what the look on his face is supposed to mean. His mouth is set in a firm line and his eyes are downcast where his food is sat and he's not looking over at her; none of which is a surprise. She's not sure if he's angry or if he's resigned to the situation or if he's embarrassed for where his brother is.
"My dad used to get arrested all of the time," Beth starts without meaning to - her waffles sat untouched. She notes Daryl's eyebrow raise slightly higher into his hairline, like he can't possibly believe that statement, but he doesn't speak. "He had a real bad drinking problem...Got it from his dad, I figure. Ended up being what he'd always told himself he wouldn't..."
Daryl clutches at his spoon and dips it, just so, into his chili. "...Not a surprise," he bites halfheartedly, like he knows exactly what her dad was talking about. And maybe he does, what with his brother being sat in prison.
"Guess not," Beth agrees with a shrug of her shoulders. "It was real bad for awhile, though, after my sister's real Mama died - way before Daddy got remarried to my Mom and I came along." Daryl shovels a spoonful into his mouth and darts his eyes between her and the bowl in front of him. "But, he'd go into town and get...just...trashed and he just kept getting tossed in the drunk tank, over and over and over..."
"Hmm."
"I'm sorry about Merle, Daryl," Beth watches him for a few more seconds, before pulling away to give him some space. She moves to pull her own silverware out of her folded paper napkin and slice away a piece of her waffle. When she takes her first bite, she practically melts into the table when it hits her tongue and she hears Daryl huff a laugh.
"You gonna make it?" he teases her back, from earlier, and smirks at the look on her face.
She's happy to know her teasing from earlier was taken in good spirits and she grins happily, "Thanks for the waffles, Daryl."
Note: Okay, can I just say that I have a plan for this and I'm so excited that it's almost embarrassing? So, I hope you'll all be as into it as I am! Thank you for reading, thank you to all guest reviews from the last chapter. And please review? I wanna know how people think it's going, I'm greedy.