Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

Pour Some Sugar On Me

"It's gonna be great!" I told Glenn excitedly, smiling wide.

"Uh-huh."

"I mean, it's practically foolproof."

"Sure." He sounded hesitant, fidgeting nervously with his hat. "Where was I again when we discussed the mutilated cow?"

"You were...around," I answered vaguely, waving my hands dismissively. "Don't look so worried. There's a fine line between madness and brilliance my friend, and as it turns out that line is..."

"A mutilated cow?"

"You got it."

I didn't know what Glenn was so worried about, this was awesome.

"I'm gonna go talk to Maggie real quick. I'll meet you at the cow car."

He shuffled over to where Maggie was loading into the truck with Rick and T-Dog, a small arsenal of weapons with them. The sound of a spark wheel on a lighter clicking from behind me made me jump a foot in the air, turning around so fast I almost fell.

"Jesus Christ Daryl," I exclaimed, hand over my heart. "You should wear a bell."

Fucking hillbilly ninja.

His eyes flicked to me before he looked back at the cow car taking a long drag on his cigarette. It was freaky how quiet he could be when he wanted to. I still wasn't absolutely positive he didn't possess some kind of superpower that enabled him to move with such stealth, it simply wasn't natural.

I waited patiently for another 10 seconds and when he didn't say anything I walked off towards the cow car. That was my measuring stick for Daryl and conversation, 30 seconds and no sound equaled OK to leave. If you didn't put some kind of time limit on him you'd spend your entire life standing beside him in silence. I heard his boots crunching on the gravel driveway as he followed behind me. At the passenger side door I tried to find a place to grab the door handle that didn't involve touching cow guts. Maybe I could climb through the window?

"Don't think ya should do this."

His voice was quiet behind me, thoughtful. Groaning internally I turned to face him. This plan was barely 24 hours old, and in that time we'd had this conversation 48 times.

"You don't?" I stood in front of him pretending to consider his statement when really I was wondering if it was too late to take Carol up on her offer for food before we left. Shaking my head in agreement, I looked at him, holding out my hand. "You're right." He looked equal parts confused and suspicious as he glanced down at my hand. "Come on then," I told him impatiently, wagging my fingers.

"Whatcha want?"

"Your keys." Duh?

He took a step back and it was all I could do not to laugh. The man could face down a herd of walkers with nothing to defend himself with but a paperclip and not bat an eye. Ask to drive his bike and there was likely to be a Daryl shaped hole in the nearest wall.

"The hell!" he exclaimed, his body instinctively preparing to fight. "No one drives that bike but me."

I snapped my fingers in mock disappointment, "Damn, guess that means we stick to the original plan."

He shot me a dirty look, grumbling under his breath.

"Relax, everything's going to be fine. Besides I clearly remember you saying it was a good plan."

Technically he had only halfway shrugged, while distractedly cleaning his arrows, and muttered a barely audible "could work", but coming from Daryl that was practically a ringing endorsement. I turned back to the door, still trying to solve that particular puzzle. I so did not want to touch any of that. Daryl huffed from behind me, moving me aside as he fished a tattered rag from a pocket, using it to open the door.