Randall. A face, a name and a first impression that Nora immediately distrusted upon arrival. Something in his eyes held a painful familiarity to the gazes of criminals that she had dealt with so many times before stumbling upon this group. Rick had taken him 18 miles out to leave him to fend for himself. All to no avail, it seemed. He knew Maggie. He could know where the farm was.
So now they were stuck with him until the group reached a final decision, sending Daryl in to interrogate him. It'd be good for the Beastie, she thought to herself as she rested her spine against the door of the barn, listening intently to their conversation.
Maybe he'd be able to let out some proper rage.
Right off the bat Daryl didn't like Randall. Something in his gut told him that this kid was no good and that not much better could be said about the group he came from. His intuition, he found, was dead on as he was given the task of interrogating the little bastard. Daryl was out in the shed for several hours as he worked to pry and dig for answers. For a majority of the duration, Randall had done nothing but waste Daryl's time, cause the redneck to grow aggitated. His patience was running out. "I told you!" Randall squeaked, being the pathetic weasel that he was.
Daryl grabbed the boy by his shirt colar and jerked him upwards so that their faces were inches apart as he growled, "You've told me shit!"
The boy was frightful of the redneck's wrath, and squirmed beneath his grip. He was nervous as hell as he finally broke down and gave in to the Redneck. Randall spilled the beans about everything. About his group and the things they did. It was heavily hinted that they men in his party often slaughered the men of survivors they came across, while leaving the women alive to rape and abuse. This angered Daryl more than anything. He stood stiff, his brows narrowed as his eyes pierced into Randall while he silently listened to the boy go on. Nora and Carol immediately came to his mind first. The thought of some scum pig bastard laying their fingers upon either of them...
Daryl quickly clenched balled his hands and brought his right fist firmly across the boy's face. He pulled back and swung again. Over and over as the thoughts played through his mind. He could not get his hands upon the entire group of men that were responsible for such monstrous acts and so he took it out on the next best thing; Randall.
After several long minutes of beating the teen until he was unconscious, Daryl exited the shed, where he saw that Nora had been eagerly listening to and watching from the other side of the door. His eyes met with hers, his features abit rough. His hands were bloodied, his knuckles having been made raw from all of the punching he had done. He averted his eyes from her, his right hand moving to rest upon the strap of his crossbow, which was slung over his back. "How long ya been listenin'?" He inquired with the raise of a brow. The question was asked almost as if he was hesitant about her seeing him like he had been. As if she would judge him for being so cruel in his beatings to the boy. Which was unusual to him, as he generally never cared what others thought of him.
Nora perked from her spot when she overheard the boy's words on women; on what they did to them. Rage boiled in her blood as she heard Daryl fall silent. Was he going to stop? Storm out? She certainly hoped not. He had taken on the ability to beat the kid into oblivion if he wanted to and at that point... Nora almost wished she could've been given such a gift.
BAM! BAM! THUD!
Nora almost relished the sound of the boy's whimpers and pleas. As if they were the most exotic aphrodisiac, she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the barn door for a few moments as she clutched one of T-Dog's du rags in her hand, along with a large bottle of water. She never thought she'd love such a brutal sound so much.
After a short time, the noise stopped. She could hear Daryl collecting his things and turned her head as the barn door opened. Nora caught a flash of Randall, limp on the floor, bloodied and broken. Good.
She turned to her Beastie as he inquired how long she'd been there. At first, Nora didn't pay heed to the question, merely observing his aversion from her piercing blue eyes. She leaned over slightly, catching his line of sight and forcing him to meet her gaze. She froze a moment, noticing his inner turmoil. Her own told him not to be ashamed.
She looked down a moment, opening the bottle of water and pouring some on the du rag. She squished the excess out of it before motioning to him.
"Give us yer 'ands a moment, Beastie." She said, her tone much more calm and soothing than intended.
Daryl leaned back a little as she leaned towards him to get a look at his face, a little uncomfortable at how she had forced him to look at her that way. Though by doing so it allowed the Hunter to see her curious eyes as they searched his. He lowered his head a moment, his eyes moving to stare at the dirt beneath his feet as he waited to hear whatever opinion she had. To willingly take whatever lecture she threw at him. But Daryl was surprised, for no words of scolding came from her. Instead the Irish woman gently asked for him to show her his hands, as she dampened the cloth in her grasp.
He raised his head quickly, as he stared at her in confusion for a split second. As if he had never been asked such a thing before in his life. He glanced down at his hand, which was still firmly wrapped around the strap of his crossbow, before returning his hues to meet hers. This was nothing he had happen before. Growing up with his childhood, he never had anyone to take care of him or nurture him. Daryl seemed hesitant, but slowly lowered his hand from its place around the strap and extended towards her. He moved almost as if he was cautious, his right brow was slightly raised and his eyes were narrowed as he watched intently and curiously as she began to clean off his hands. All the while occasionally removing his sights from her working hands to stare at her when she wouldn't notice.
He looked like a deer trapped in headlights for a moment. Nora's brave gaze never faltered, letting him know she could be trusted with such a simple task. She reached out as he extended his hand to her; nimble, soft digits curling around his own calloused ones as she began to dab away the blood. She took her pouty bottom lip between her teeth as she concentrated solely on the wounds that formed in the wake of his rage. Now and then, her silken thumb would accidentally stroke against the hardened, stiff flesh of his palm and her eyes would falter.
"Me Da told me somet'in' a while back. Before the breakout." She murmured in a tone that was hardly above a whisper. Her eyes were more focused now, as though talking about her father was a totally foreign concept to her. "'E told me that the innocent were to be protected at all costs... because we ne'er knew when they wouldn't be around anymore." Her voice trembled somewhat as she remembered those words; trying hard not to let her emotions rise to the surface.
She proceeded to pour a bit more water over his wounds before she did her final dabbing. Nora met his eyes bravely when she finished and ran her bubblegum tongue over her parched bottom lip before speaking one last time.
"Randall is not an innocent. He is a liability." It took her a moment to realize she was still holding onto the Beast's hand. She pulled it back; as though burned from his touch. "You have every right to be proud of da mess you made of 'im."
She had turned on her heel to leave, but paused mid-step and turned back to him.
"And th'next time Rick asks you to 'ave a little chat wit'the boy? Send an invite my way, would yah? I could use a good punching bag." That traditional Nora Brannigan smirk appeared on her face and she flashed him a small wink before she disappeared around the corner of the barn.
Daryl watched in silence as she began to dab at his bloodied knuckles. The feeling of her gentle and smooth fingers of the hand that held his felt unusual to him. He had never held hands with anyone before and this had to be the closest he probably ever would get to doing such a thing. His crystalline hues were focused intently upon the hand that washed away the blood, watching as they worked delicately around his open wounds. His eyes quickly moved to her face when her voice broke the surprisingly soothing silence that had surrounded them. He listened quietly as she shared with him what her father had once told her and could hear the struggle in her voice. It was evident, even to him, that this man had been an extremely important figure in her life. He squinted his eyes, his expression smoothing as she finished, realizing exactly what she was doing by telling him this. This was her way of letting him know that she backed him up on what he had done.
She lifted her head to meet his gaze as she stated that Randal was a liability. He searched her eyes thoughtfully for a moment before she suddenly jerked her hand from his. This caused him to slowly pull back, his head lowering to look at his cleaned knuckles, examining them, before returning his hand to the strap of his crossbow. He lifted his gaze, seeing Nora's typical corkiness returning to her as she spoke of inviting her to the interrogation next time. The corner of his mouth tugged so slightly that it was hard to tell they had even moved at all, as he lightly smirked to her. All he offered her apart from that was a gentle nod of his head, his blue hues locking with hers before lowering his head to the ground slightly as his body turned to move in the opposite direction.