LATE AFTERNOON
Carol finally put the casserole in the oven, setting the timer for 20 minutes. On to salads now. The abundance of ingredients called for a variety of dishes - that was what the dinner was about and that was what was getting her worked up all over again - she had to cook five times more then usual and she was all by herself because of course she had had to refute the offer for help earlier. Mostly because it was Michonne who offered and the chocolate thing still stung.
"Looks like you need a hand in there." A familiar voice sent her anger spiralling upwards when it seemed it had nowhere to go. The last thing she wanted right now was to be stuck in a small space with Morgan and a kitchen knife. That could turn ugly really quick.
"I'm perfectly fine and I'd strongly advise you to keep away from me and sharp objects especially when we come as a package." She offered in a sweet voice, happy, that at least she could be herself around him - he'd seen enough to know her face value.
Morgan considered her words carefully and stepped up to the table anyway. "Could we talk if I promise to stay this side of the room and chop whatever needs chopping?"
The choice between having to endure his presence and having to chop everything herself was a tough one, but Carol already figured this day couldn't get much worse.
"As long as it's a short talk and you chop all of these."
He nodded gingerly and reached for the knife. "Love to cook." He mused, setting about his task, "always did."
She ignored him and went about her own chopping. The silence was deafening when he suddenly put his knife down and reached for her hand. "Carol, I…" he started as she froze, looking at his fingers on her wrist and fighting the urge to chop his arm off. "I just wanted to…"
Carol's eyes widened as she took in a shadow moving in from the living room. Of course it was him.
"Ain't doing nothing, thought you'd need a hand" Daryl's low voice resonated with her brain causing her an instant headache at the thought of how it all looked. "Guess too late for that." He muttered catching sight of their joint hands and heading straight for the back door. Morgan released her wrist instantly, but she only cared for the retreating back in the worn leather vest. Carol almost wanted to smile remembering she shot through the kitchen the exact same way when she caught Michonne and Carl redhanded with the chocolate.
She tried to save the situation with a cheeky "A threesome is always on the table you know" aimed at his back, knowing he'd just walk on, but he surprised her.
His hand was already on the handle when he slowly turned, measuring her from head to toe, his eyes steady and none of the familiar looking at his feet going on. "Ain't much for sharing," he uttered and added, looking at Morgan's shocked expression: "no offence, man." The next thing she knew he was out the door.
Carol Peletier was standing in the middle of the kitchen full of sunlight and couldn't believe that Daryl Dixon had for once returned on of her suggestive puns right back at her. It made her feel warm and tingly all over but at the same time she felt she was losing her footing. That was the moment she knew he was not the guy from inside the prison walls. This new Daryl was exiting and dangerous and relatively unknown. It was funny how in this new world even your closest friend could turn into some kind of unnerving stranger over the course of a few months.
"Chop on." She said to Morgan who was still watching her quietly and left the kitchen. There was 15 minutes left on that timer and damn it she was not going to waste the time.