"…and I do a really great lasagne." Celine finally finished off with, touching Daryl lightly on the arm. He jerked away from her.
"Nah." Daryl shook his head, as if to make his position even clearer. "Don't need no food, got plenty in the houses." He waved his hand loosely to the two houses behind him, where the group had been making their home for the previous eight weeks.
Celine let out a tinkling laugh, leant over and touched his arm again, giving him a squeeze. "You're so silly!" She let go of him, but took a step closer. "Sometimes it's just nice to get out of the house, right? Like going to a restaurant?"
And then, only then, did Daryl get it. It wasn't an invitation to eat. It was an invitation to eat with her.
"I ain't ever been that type." He turned his back on her, focusing back on his work, cleaning up the day's kills.
Celine sighed lightly. "Daryl." She waited for him to stop and look back at her. "I'm kinda trying to ask you on a date." Her grin was shy, hands resting on the rail between them.
"Nah." He shook his head. Absolutely not. God, he wanted the ground to swallow him up. Swallow Celine up. "Ain't interested."
Celine's cheeks flushed and she took a step back.
"Daryl, dinner's up." Tara's head poked through the porch screen and she gave Celine a wave.
"I'm comin'." He dropped the knife on the table, gave the embarrassed woman in front of him a shrug before heading indoors.
"Carol made lasagne, it smells awesome." Tara said, grin plastered across her face.
Lasagne sounded perfect. In fact, Carol's lasagne sounded great.