"Stay where I can see you!" Lori hissed to Carl as he rushed past her to go to the seating area outside the Cell Block. She shook her head, her hands upon her hips as she watched him run off, appearing as if he had brushed off her warning.
Rick and Daryl glanced over at her from the table they had stationed themselves at. There was a layout of the whole Prison that they had located in the main office and they were discussing plans for securing and clearing out the place better. They went over the ideas they had for the Yard and were going to head over to the Cafeteria next after some R&R to begin to rid it of walkers as well.
"I think for tonight we can manage t' rest, n' we'll worry about the other two buildings tomorrow." Rick suggested, in which Daryl nodded in agreement.
After some time everyone put their sleeping bags down and laid themselves down to rest. Daryl went off to the side from the group, but still within eye-shot, and seated himself to begin working on his crossbow, obviously disliking the idea of sleep. He removed two bolts from the quiver and the other from the flight groove and began cleaning the weapon down. All the while his mind wandering onto that stupid Irish woman.
"Would you STOP!" She had demanded, placing herself between him and the motorcycle. He remembered seeing that look in her eyes. That concern; worry. It was so deep..and genuine. "Daryl..." She had uttered his name, pleading him not to. But he wasn't going to risk it. He couldn't have risked her life. "You better come back, Beast!" She had snapped at him, he could almost still feel the spot on his arm where she had ran into him as she stomped past him. Daryl squinted his eyes as he began cleaning up the flight groove, the corners of his mouth pulling lightly as he scowled. "I told ya not ta be clumsy, ya damn Leprechaun..." He thought bitterly, angry that she had allowed herself to get stuck in such a situation. To have been overtaken by those damned geeks. Daryl nibbled at the inside of his bottom lip, his blue eyes shfiting to look at the last remaining bolt that he had made with her. And as much as Daryl wanted to believe that the Irish girl had made it out alive, he had to tell himself to stop being so hopeful in the matter.
His eyes tore suddenly from his crossbow to the corridor ahead of him. He stared hard into the darkened space, his brows pulling together as his eyes narrowed. Did he just see something run by..? Daryl slowly leaned back, straightening his posture as his hand moved to retrieve the bolts on the table. He slid the bolt into the flight groove and then slowly got to his feet, his hands lifting the crossbow off of the table as he began to cautiously move down the hall. He rounded the corner and pressed on, stopping and turning abruptly when he heard the faint pitter-patter of feet running along the adjacent corridor. His xbow was lifted, his finger gently resting upon the trigger. Daryl moved silently, placing one foot in front of the other as he brought himself closer to the other corner. He hesitated a moment, his breath stilled as he listened intently. Shuffle, shuffle. The Redneck quickly turned the corner, his crossbow aimed high. His crystalline orbs were intense as they searched eagerly for the source of this sound.
The Hunter approached the door positioned at the left side of the hall. The Laundry room. There were several large washing machine aligned in a row and down the center of the room were dryers. The room was dark and there was no telling where the light switch was. Silence had fallen. The shuffling had ceased. Daryl tilted his head slightly, his left brow lifting in question as he cautiously walked down the he neared the end of the row, he heard it again. Like something was hiding behind the corner of the dryers out of the Hunter's line of sight. Before he could even finish turning around it sharply, a man jumped up at him, clocking him in the face.