𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐃 │ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍 ¹ [✔]

[49]: tired

Dale lifted a foot to place it on higher ground. He didn't speak much to Daryl, so he didn't have a pre-assessed way to converse with the lone wolf. "Carol's not the only one concerned about you, an-- you're new role in the group." He spoke calmly, watching Daryl place arrows in a tiny holster attached to his crossbow.

Daryl had lost most of his arrows down that ravine, and he would much rather spend a few hours making new ones out of old wood and feathers than try to climb up that hill again, with Merle at his ear and Marley in his eyes.

Daryl sighed heavily again. "Man, I don't need my head shrunk," finally, he had finished with his arrows and could stop talking when he didn't want to talk. "This group's broken. I'm better off fendin' for myself."

Of course, Daryl was never fending for just himself. He hadn't just been fending for himself for a long while now - it seemed it was gonna stay that way.

Dale lifted his eyebrows. "You act like you don't care."

"Yeah, it's cause I don't," Daryl brushed off Dale's attempt to try and, as he said, shrink his head. He reached over to his jacket hung on the old brick furnace, swinging it onto his arms.

"So, live or die, you don't care what happens to Randall?"

"Nope."

"Then why not stand with me, try to save the kid's life?" Dale tried his best to sink his words into Daryl somehow but he really didn't have the power to. He wasn't one of the people who could, unfortunately for him.

"Didn't peg you for a desperate son o' bitch," Daryl straightened out his clothes.

Dale paused for a moment. "Your opinion makes a difference."

"Man, ain' nobody be looking to me for nothin'," Daryl finally swung his crossbow over his shoulder, carrying himself away from Dale and towards anywhere he could be alone and be left to his thoughts. To plan; figure out what the hell he was doing for Marley.

Dale's voice carried to his ears, stopping him in his tracks. "Carol is-- and I am, right now." Dale swallowed heavily. "You know Marley always has, and you've always answered."

Daryl chewed on the inside of his cheek, closing his eyes for a moment - like her name was a headache, and it just sent a wave of pain through his brain.

Dale knew his weakness, unfortunately for Daryl.

"And you obviously have Rick's ear."

Daryl turned on his heel, his beady eyes defensive and his posture guarded, intimidating. "Rick just looks to Shane. Let 'im."

Daryl tried to turn away again, only for the old man to keep at it, only annoying Daryl further. "You cared about what happened to Sophia." Dale waited until the man was facing him fully again, seeing Daryl's shoulders slump in exhaustion. "Cared what it meant to the group."

Daryl's face was full of anger and annoyance. He really didn't want to talk to Dale about his so-called "new role in the group". Daryl didn't want to hear it, people sucking up to him. He felt too vulnerable for it.

"Torturing people, that isn't you," Dale reasoned. "You're a decent man; so is Rick."

Daryl was now face-to-face and closer to Dale, a challenging glance set in his eyes, daring the old man to try and get under his skin, knowing that he couldn't succeed that well.

"Shane," he pointed a finger at the redneck. "Is different."

Daryl knew he would have said Marley's name too if he was brave enough.