Georgian Redneck

Chapter 4- Friends and Collisions

"Well, I was brought up on Rock music. My dad was... The Rock type. I don't know how else to describe him. He was a huge influence in my life. The reason I went on with school. My mom on the other hand, not so much. She was mainly absent. But yeah, Rock I guess" I say, grinning at him. Glenn isn't bad-looking with his short black hair and brown eyes. It's a nice contrast. But I'm not interested in him like that.

He smiles and nods, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles lightly. "What's your favourite colour? Movie?" The questions just keep coming. I smirk and shake my head slightly. It's like I'm being interrogated. Something I'm glad I haven't had to experience yet.

He looks at me expectantly, noding for me to go on.

"Black and red I suppose, or maybe blue. I don't really like yellow or orange that much. And well as for the movie, I'll have to say The Godfather. It's been my all-time favourite since I was a child. You just can't not love Al Pacino." I grin. I miss the days where I could just turn the tv on, make some popcorn and get lazy.

"What country are you from? You don't sound American. I mean, not to be offensive or anything." He interrupts my thoughts, squinting his eyes at me with a grin and a panicky expression afterwards. He wouldn't be able to offend me even if he tried.

"Well, I'm from Ireland. Born there but moved to Scotland when I was 14. I got bored of the life there and when I was 17, moved to Chicago. Maybe that's where I get the weird mixture of accents from." I moved a lot. That was the usual for me and my family. But we weren't gypsies. My favourite by far is Chicago. Although ending up in Atlanta was purely just because of staying on the run from walkers.

"Glenn, why did you ask Maggie to get me? From the woods, I mean. You barely even know me. " I add, looking at the cracks in the pale, white walls. The typical signs of an old farm house.

He clears his throat before talking. "You're the only one in our group that doesn't dislike me. Appart from Dale, of course. And, you're my friend. Plus, you're rather entertaining."

What does he mean? I'm pretty sure the whole group doesn't hate him. They must like him, otherwise they wouldn't let his stay in the group. Hey, he hasn't even seen my funny side yet... And we barely know each other, but I suppose we just clicked.

I nod, getting off the comfy bed reluctantly. The room isn't exactly warm, so I miss the warmth of the quilt.

"I'm gonna check on Carl and meet the owner of this house. See you soon, Glenn." I call over to him as I pull on my heavy boots. I'll have to get a new pair soon, they're getting worn out.

I close the door behind me with a creak. Is it safe to leave him alone? The windows in the room were shut and the door is heavy. So in the event of a stray walker he should be fine.

I bang my head. Hard.

I land on the hard  floor, sprawled across it. What the hell? Maybe I should be looking where I'm going more and keep my thoughts from occupying my whole mind. But shit, that was a hard landing.

I look up to see Daryl, his stone expression showing a slight smirk. It's so weird. I'm not sure, it's just the fact that he's always so stoic and now that there's an actual expression on his face aside from anger, I can't seem to look away.

"Here" he says, holding his hand out for me to take. I grab it and pull myself up, giving him a glare. My forehead is sore because of him. Wait. What is he doing here?

We stand in awkward silence for a while, me playing with my black watch and him leaning against the wall, watching me. Don't get me wrong, the slight attention from him is making me uncomfortable but also safe, so I don't complain. Instead I ask the question that's been brewing inside me.