In This World- Daryl Dixon

Before: Brandy or Whiskey?

It was a warm summer night when the Dixon brothers rolled into the sleepy rural Georgia town. The streets were poorly illuminated with splotchy and dim streetlights. Each house was run down and rustic. It reminded them of their home town.

The sound of the two motorcycles cut through the small town silence as both brothers craned their necks trying to find a gas station, diner, or rest stop. What Merle, the older brother and driving force between them saw, was a bar.

The bar was a two story brick building. The sides were splattered with community murals and the windows were flooded with light. Loud thumps, shouts, and music poured from the open door as the locals enjoyed their Friday night.

"Well little brother," Merle said. "Lets go see what's so fun."

Daryl Dixon, the younger and shyer brother, simply nodded and followed his brother's lead like always. The two pulled up in front of the bar and hesitantly went in. None of the patrons seemed to notice the two strangers slip into their watering hole. Daryl was relieved by this. Too often they had encountered territorial locals in small town establishments. The two brothers slid onto bright red cushioned bar stools and analyzed their surroundings.

A few people sat at booths enjoying a burger or pasta. Another handful were watching the close captioned foot ball game at the counter, but most were enthralled in the bar's main attraction: axe throwing. At the far end of the bar, three lanes divided by chain link fences and with targets at the ends had been set up. The axes seemed to resemble classic wood cutters, but mounted above the bar was a set of throwing tomahawks and championship pictures and medals. Most, if not all the award pictures, featured the same blonde girl at varying ages.

"What can I getcha boys?" a sweet southern voice said.

Daryl's eyes turned from the awards to the bar tender. He was shocked to see she was the very same girl from the pictures.

"A whiskey for me sweet heart," Merle crooned, eyes glued to the woman's massive cleavage.

She smiled, unbothered by the ogling.

"And for you?" she said, looking at Daryl with a smile.

For a moment, he felt flustered. She was gorgeous. She was tall with long honey gold hair. She wore dark skinny jeans which clung to the curvature of her thighs and ass, and a low cut black shirt to advertise her tits and tiny waist. Her arms showed lean muscle, which alluded to her athleticism. Her rounded face held a perpetual half smirk, gracefully arched eye brows, and amused grey eyes. She raised one of her pale brows, still waiting for Daryl's response.

"Forgive my virginal little brother," Merle said, slinging an arm across Daryl's shoulders. "He don't know how to handle such a woman."

The woman laughed a little. Her eyes crinkled when she smiled.

"Thats quite alright hun," she said to them both. "I can just get you a water if you need time to think," she added, looking to Daryl again.

"Nah," Merle said. "Come on baby brother, whatchu want? Whiskey? Brandy?"

"Brandy over ice," he grumbled out, his shoulders hunched up and his arms resting on the counter.

"Got it," she said with another smile.

Merle blindly drooled over the bar tender, but Daryl studied her. She was not as effortlessly graceful or charming as he had thought. The more he watched her, the more he realized how purposefully flirtatious her movements were. She knew exactly what she was doing. She thought through each step, each laugh, each smile. And of course, she was rewarded with generous tips.

The night grew older. After two whiskeys Merle was sucked into the axe throwing. He was horrible, but stayed in good spirits. Daryl stayed at the bar drinking brandy after brandy. He switched his gaze between his brother and the bar tender. After an hour or two, he finally noticed she was studying him as well. Occasionally, their eyes would meet. It was always Daryl who looked away. And she always smiled when he did. After three hours of refilling his drinks, she made her move.

"Not in the mood to join yer brother?" she asked, wiping down the counters.

She bent over the counters as she cleaned them giving Daryl a full view down her shirt. His eyes fluttered between his empty drink and her body. He bowed his head more, hunching his shoulders all the way to his ears.

He grunted a little in response. She laughed and rested her chin in the palm of her hand, admiring the stranger. He was tall, muscular, and tan with unkempt sandy brown hair. His steely blue eyes flicked back and forth, never resting in one place for too long. He kept his lips pressed in a thin line, and had a small mole right above the corner of his left lip.

"Normally the stragglers we get here go straight to the axes," she mused. "I guess you're different."

He shrugged.

"You ain't like your brother, that's fer sure," she said, continuing the one sided conversation.

Daryl wished she would leave him alone. He much preferred watching her from a distance. He had no interest in flirtatious small talk with a tramp. Besides, she was just trying to get tipped.

"See, I know you ain't like yer brother cause yer not falling for my tricks," she said as if reading Daryl's mind. "Its the easiest money in the world," she continued. "A tight shirt, a few smiles, a laugh, a wink and bam, 30 extra bucks. Don't work on the locals though. That's why you stragglers are my favorite." She laughed. "Well, I suppose you're an exception."

Daryl remained silent.

"But," she said after a moment. "You might be my new favorite."

He said nothing.

"I'll getcha refill," she said, plucking the glass from his hand and turning away from him.

Daryl let out a breath and visibly relaxed. He could hunt and fight, but social interaction was a point of terror for him. Especially with women. He had seen how his father treated women and was terrified he would do the same. He snapped easily at any girl who bothered him, mostly out of fear and nerves. But this little minx just made him nervous, not annoyed.

"Here," she said, returning to him. "Whats yer name?" she asked.

He didn't say anything.

"C'mon, I'm not gonna bite," she said, teasing.

"Daryl," he said after a tense moment.

"Daryl, I like that," she said.

She smiled and slid the glass over to him.

"I'm Brandy."