☆ 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 ★ carl g.

ᵥᵢᵢ

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𓂃⋮˚☽˚｡⋆
────────────

Esme maintained a quiet presence at the dinner table, her responses limited to a mere nod of gratitude when Carol served a dish of green beans and mashed potatoes.

It had been a few hours since returning from the woods, and luckily, she and Carl had successfully managed to avoid detection as they came sneaking back to Alexandria. But, they hadn't spoken to each other after separating to return to their houses.

She wanted to talk to Carl—to confront him about his dangerous activities and suspicious relations with Enid—but in all honesty, she felt it was hardly worth it. Carl knew what he was doing; he was old enough to know it was wrong and stupid. So, if he chose to do it anyway, that was his problem to sort out.

As for the injuries inflicted by Pete, Daryl had his share of concerns. The moment he saw Esme, he demanded she tell him what happened.

Fortunately, Carol intervened with a tactful deflection, saying, "She's clumsy, Daryl. You know this. Probably ran into a door or something."

Ran into a door. It was intriguing to see how the excuse was so widely used by those who needed to use it. 'I burned it on a curling iron. I fell down the stairs. I ran into a door.'

Based on Daryl's reaction, he took her words as gospel, but his eyes were concerned. The familiarity with the door excuse resonated in Daryl's past, evident in the scars engraved into his back—a topic he avoided discussing, much like Esme's own reservations.

Carol, despite forming a lie about Esme's injuries, seemed to hold an unspoken understanding of the truth. No questions needed to be asked.

Esme wondered if Carol was finally opening up to her.

Throughout their three-year acquaintance, Carol had maintained a deliberate distance. She was often shrouded in coldness and cruelty whenever interaction between the two was unavoidable.

However, there had been a subtle shift since Terminus. While far from perfect, their dynamic was improving, brought by a mutual respect through shared adversities.

At the dinner table, Daryl settled across from Esme with his plate. As he shoveled his meal into his mouth with occasional glances in her direction, Esme continued to poke at her food, wearing a somber expression.

Daryl sat his fork down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he spoke. "Hey."

Esme looked up at him. "Hm?"

"Aaron and I found a walker tied up to a tree out in the woods," he said, trying to make conversation at the silent table. "Had a 'W' carved into her forehead."

Esme wrinkled her nose in disgust, taking a small, distracted bite of her greens. "Gross," she mumbled.

"Yeah," Daryl snickered, shifting his gaze to Carol, who had joined them at the table. "Poor girl had been fed on, strung up like some sort of sick bait."

"Daryl," Carol interjected, motioning toward Esme, who was visibly already distressed.

"She's fine," Daryl chuckled. "She's literally seen worse with her own eyes."

"Still," Carol sighed, cautioning Daryl. "That just means she doesn't need to hear any more of it."

Esme observed the exchange silently, a bystander to the adults discussing her innocence as if she weren't there. While it was true that she had lived through experiences more harrowing than any tale Daryl could recount, Carol's point stood.