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The moon was risen high up in the sky and the sky had turned pitch black by the time Daryl pulled up in front of the farm. The only light was the headlights on his bike and by the looks of it, no one was about.
"You think they found Hershel yet?" Daryl asked, as Ophelia unlatched her arms from his waist.
"Hard to say." She hummed, removing her helmet and swinging her leg around to the other side of the bike. "I'd say probably not. I can't see Ricks car."
Daryl nodded and copied her, sitting himself on one side of the bike next to her.
He then pulled out a cigarette packet and offered it to Ophelia. She accepted and took one in between her fingers. Next to her, Daryl took one for himself and shoved the cardboard box into his pocket afterwards. A few short moments later, he pulled out a lighter and held it up to the girls cigarette.
"Didn't know you smoked." Daryl observed, now lighting the cigarette in between his small lips.
"I try not to smoke often." She replied, inhaling. "But, we're all fucked anyway."
The redneck chuckled, puffing out smoke. "Ain't that the truth."
The two then sat in a comfortable silence for a while. The only sound being that of chirping crickets and the swaying trees in the distance. They both just enjoyed their cigarettes peacefully, as they sat on Daryl's motorcycle.
"You, er, know...you, uh, you ain't gotta bottle it all up." Daryl spoke up somewhat awkwardly, breaking the silence. Ophelia casted him a confused glance.
"Excuse me?"
"I mean, with Sophia and all. You, uh, you don't gotta bottle it all up..." he repeated, clearing his throat.
Ophelia raised her brows — was Daryl being nice?
"No." She said with a stern shake of her head. "I don't want to talk about it, Daryl."
"You don't gotta talk to me 'bout it —"
"Thank you for your permission." She scoffed, cutting him off.
"But, maybe you should talk to someone 'bout it." He suggested somewhat shyly. "Bottlin' it all up? It ain't doin' you any good."
