Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

Not Losing You

I yanked open the door, glaring at Glenn who swallowed hard in response.  "What's rule number one?"

"Uh...you're not allowed to use your murder face today."

I glared at him, tapping my foot impatiently.  "Fine, what's rule number two?"

"Don't bother you guys," he replied, tugging at the collar of his shirt.

"Then why are you here?"

"Well, because, Daryl said..."

"What's rule number three?"

"It's uh, man, it's hot.  Are you hot?"

"Is everything OK?"

I turned to Francine, plastering a fake smile on my face.  "Everything's great.  Glenn just had a question about..."  Oh shit, what did he have a question about besides how I was going to murder him for knocking on our door?

"The rings," Glenn supplied, pulling a hanky out of his pocket to wipe the sweat out of his eyes.

"The rings," I repeated, "He has a question about the rings so I'm gonna, just, step outside and answer his question...about the rings, so I'll be right back."

Maggie frowned, putting her hands on Francine's shoulder and turning her away from the door.  She knew something was up, and she didn't want her anywhere near it.  Stepping outside I quickly shut the door, putting my hands on my hips, looking at Glenn expectantly.

"Glenn?"

"Rule number three is only disturb you if someone is dead or dying."  I threw my hands in the air, looking around for the dead body.  "But the thing is, there's also rule number four..." he trailed off, unable to finish.

My eyes snapped to his face and I ground my teeth together.  "Where is he?"

"In the room...down the hall."  He pointed in the opposite direction and I pushed past him, getting more pissed with every step.  It didn't help that the three-inch heels were digging into my heel, but on the plus side maybe I could use them to murder my brother-in-law.  Digging my knife out from the thigh holster discreetly strapped to my leg would take far too long in this gown.

I didn't knock when I got to the door, flinging it open so hard it banged against the wall.  I took a moment to observe the chaos in the room with a shake of my head. 

Daryl lunged at his brother, snatching a bottle of whiskey out of his hand while Rick blocked the only other exit in the room with his body.  Merle's eyes were wide with panic, his breathing labored as he surveyed the room.  He looked like a skittish animal ready to flee.  You'd think he was about to face down a herd of walkers not moments away from marrying the love of his life.

"What the hell happened?" I asked no one in particular.

Rick rubbed his temples.  "He's freaking out."

"No shit."

Daryl didn't take his eyes off his brother while he answered.  "We was trying to keep him calm by doin' a lil' at a time.  Take a shower.  Get dressed.  Shit like that."  That made sense.  "Only problem is the next thing is gettin' married and he's bein' a pussy."

I made my way to Merle, stopping in front of the lumbering redneck.  He was mumbling nonsense under his breath, he wasn't good enough for Francine, he was trash, he didn't want to let her down, and all kinds of other bullshit that made my temperamental third eye twitch.

"What do we do?" Glenn asked.

Good question.  Really, there was only one thing left to do.