ANGEL FACE ➵ DARYL DIXON [2]

Chapter Six: Let Yourself Feel It

Chapter 6

"Oh, my god!"

Her eyes widen like a large cat, putting her hands to cover her open dry and hungry mouth. Not for long... Her stomach rumbles, the colours dark brown from the bottles of diet soda, sandy orange from the peanut butter, and an almost almond colour from the pig's trotters. When Daryl opened the cupboard in the spacious kitchen, she was not expecting any food. She thought it was clean as the rest of this place. But apparently not.

A smile forms on her face as Daryl immediately grabs the jar of peanut butter, old habits not dying. He flings the lid off, digging into the thick, tacky, spread like his fingers were the spoons. He slurps and licks, raising his eyebrows at Fava.

"Peanut butter, diet soda, an' pig's feet. That's a white trash brunch right there," Daryl informs, pointing to each of the items.

The way he eats the peanut butter would turn your stomach, but Fava is use to his table manners by now. In fact, she's heading down the same road.

"It all looks good to me," Fava says without a worry, reaching out to the large bottles of soda.

"Wait, hol' up," Daryl says, looking at the food and drink again, how it's neatly stored and packed.

"Ain't a speck of dust on this."

Fava fails to understand, putting her hands on her waist and turning to look at him with a crooked eyebrow pointing upwards. She shrugs.

"So? Bit late now. You've opened the peanut butter."

He nods his head, agreeing. Yet his face has softned, having a lighter touch overall.

"I know, but somebody's put it 'ere."

She chuckles from wonder, knowing what he's implying. When did Daryl Dixon start caring so much? He was never like this before. If it was back in the prison, he would of took all these goods for himself, not worrying about the people who owned them. Now? He is.

Why?

"This is someone's stash," he adds, shocking Fava even more from his odd behaviour, "maybe they're still alive."

They turn to one another, the corner of Fava's lips turning up slightly as Daryl quickly looks away and sets down his peanut butter on the round wooden table. Again, he sucks his fingers, Fava cringing as her face screws up from his loud slurps.

"Alright," he finally says, "we'll take some of it an' leave the rest, alright?"

Fava puts her hands on her waist, cocking her head to one side.

"What?" He asks, but he knows what she's thinking.

"I knew it," she boasts, picking up another jar of peanut butter and a bottle of soda from the open cupboard.

"Knew what?"

"It's like I said, there's still good people. Yeah?"

After a long sigh, Daryl replies.

"Whatever. Jus' get the food."

I wonder what changed his mind, Fava thinks to herself, grabbing the pig's feet and another bottle of soda for Daryl. She sets the items down, one each for both of them.

"Let's eat," Daryl announces, pulling out the chair and sitting down.

Fava copies, not liking the look of the pig's feet. But, food is food. And Daryl has already opened his jar, gorbing and stuffing the feet down his throat. Fava squirms, wishing she had turned fully vegetarian when she did. It only lasted a month, a dare between her and her brother, Rico. She wanted to win, but the strong odour of bacon in the morning from her mother cooking to having to get a salad at McDonald's, she couldn't do it. The temption was real. She lost.