"Hey!" Glenn was out of breath by the time he reached the little camp Daryl had going and he bent, holding one knee to steady himself as he caught it. "I'm going on a um, supply run," he informed, his speech punctuated by a deep swallow. "I was wondering if you needed anything."
Daryl narrowed his eyes to observe the boy, then glanced behind him, checking the other camps. When he knew everyone's eyes were on their own work he stood from his crouch, stepping closer to Glenn.
"You think I'm stupid?" he asked matter-of-factly.
"Huh? Uh, no," Glenn replied, a bit taken aback by the question.
Daryl's fist balled into the front of Glenn's grimy t-shirt and spun him around, pinning the smaller man's back to a tree.
"Come on puppy dog," he growled. "You been chasin' my tail since Atlanta. You got somethin' to say, say it."
Oh god. Glenn felt his jeans tighten at the man's gruff words and he swallowed again. "Wh-what?"
Daryl gave him another shove, a muscle under his eye twitching as he pinned the boy. "Tryin' to get in on my deer hunts, gettin' my supplies specially, hangin' off my ear every second I'm not in my tent. What're you after, Chinaman?"
"I guess I'm just...friendly?" he tried, glad he could blame the Georgia sun for the sweat gleaming on his brow. He was such a bad liar.
"That what they're callin' it these days?" Daryl smirked. "Listen kid, I eat koose like you raw for breakfast. So you better back the fuck off before you get yourself hurt."
Glenn sighed as Daryl pulled away, striding over to grab his bow and leaving the other man to lean up against the tree.
"Where are you going?" Glenn asked, trying to ignore the strain of his jeans.
"Lookin' for Sophia s'more," Daryl grunted, heading off into the woods without another word.