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𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚁𝙳𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽'𝚂𝙿𝙾𝚅
Daryl delivered a punch to the guy—that Rick saved—face, sending him to the ground. Trying to get information about his group. And another. And...another. His anger about everything coming out on this guys face.
"I told you."
"You ain't told me shit!" Daryl yelled, grabbing the kid and slamming him up against the wall.
"I barely knew those guys, I met them on the road!"
Natalie didn't feel safe around him, at all.
"How many in your group?" She asked, her hand hovering over her knife that was strapped to her thigh.
"Uhh—No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Come on, man!" The kid—Randall—stuttered out, once he noticed Daryl grabbing his knife.
Daryl leaned down and slammed his knife into the floor boards right next to Randall's leg. "How many?!"
"Uhh, uhh, thirty! Thirty! Thirty guys!"
"Where?"
"Uhm—" Randall then screamed as Daryl took the bandage off his leg. "I don't know! I swear! We were never at a place more then a night!" He yelled.
"Y'all scouting?" Daryl asked taking his knife and placed it into his leg wound. "Plannin' on stayin' local?!"
"I don't know! They left me behind!" Randall whimpered.
