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The Walking Dead ( Private between myself and Traveler)

"Yeah, that's not really going back for, is it?" He smirked at her at the mention of the Sig. He still assumed that she had lost it recently, and that it might be just an hour away. It had never occurred to him that she had been without a proper weapon for that long.

As they began to climb the stairs he noticed the labored way she moved and the hand that she pressed against her side. "You're hurt. Bad." His eyes narrowed as she mentioned the safe. "Let me look at your injury, Kat. You don't need to be hobbling around and getting worse when I might be able to help you."

She didn't look like she needed to be hauling anything right now, not to mention not in shape to run from walkers or human danger. "Come on... I'll even give you the crossbow so you can protect yourself if I get out of hand." He shrugged but gave her a tight smile. Obviously they had just met, but she seemed to be rather reasonable. "I noticed a first aid kit in the master bath up there; once I help patch you up we can look at that safe."
 
She chuckles "Definitely not," She murmured, taking a slow breath, then eyed him as he asked to see her wound. "Probably ain't much to look at but sure," She spoke softly. "I don't need your crossbow, that's what I have him for," She motioned to the dog, "He's the reason I was able to get away from those men," She began to move slowly towards the master bedroom. Leaving her hand pressed to her side, she found that it felt just a little bit better with the pressure.

But even though she'd been serious, Jasper would stop him if Kat commanded him to, she very much doubted Daryl would ever do something that she would feel compelled to use her dog. He's had multiple opportunities to kill the dog and do whatever he wanted with her, and he hasn't.

Once in the bedroom she makes her way to the bathroom. Setting the toilet lid down before sitting carefully on it. "I think it's just a busted rib or two, I've had worse, I'll live," She muses as she eyes her new human companion. Jasper comes and lays out of the way, but still fairly close to his mistress. She fiddled with the edge of her shirt, knowing it'd be more practical to just take it off, she had a sports bra on underneath, and there was a time she wouldn't have hesitated to, she'd grown up with four older brothers, then worked in a job where the men outnumbered her. It didn't use to bother her none if a man saw her in just her bra and jeans, but now, after her last encounter, she was hesitant. They hadn't had the chance to rape her, before Jasper came, but she knew that's what they were intending, and just knowing that they would've and she couldn't stop them, it was enough to rattle her confidence. It didn't matter that she had suburb martial arts skills, had there been only one attacker, she likely would have ended it before it could really start, but there was only so much training that could counter her small size, and going at it, 3 to 1, well, she hadn't stood much of a chance, no matter what her skill level.

Her eyes drifted back to Daryl, as if assessing him, she wouldn't say she trusted him yet, but in a way she did, more than other people, at least. And in the end, she decided it would be simpler to just take the tank top off, her side was too sore to allow her to hold the shirt up as long as it would take for Daryl to be satisfied that her ribs would heal. Carefully she tugged the hem of the shirt up, inching it off, wincing at the pain the movement caused.
 
"Here," he set his crossbow down, leaning it against the sink, and went to help her peel off her tank top. "Damn... you're all kinds of fucked up." He set her shirt on the counter and sat back on his haunches to look at the bruising. "How long's it been since they beat you?"

He pressed his lips together as he thought about the bruising that was going on around her. So far she hadn't shown any signs of internal injuries; that was good. But she sure did look like a hot mess.

"I'm gonna find some sheets to use. I think that if we wrapped you you'll feel better. You're damn lucky, you know that? I mean it doesn't look like they got your lungs or anything else, but you're lucky that they didn't stomp you and snap your spine or some shit. Damn..." clearly her wounds didn't set well with him. After a moment he retired to the bedroom and rummaged around until he found a set of clean sheets, then he went back to the bathroom and looked at her.

"Hm. Do you want to take a shower before I wrap you up? You know - since there's hot water and everything?"
 
She glanced down at herself, wincing at the dark purple and black bruising that expanded over her stomach and left side. You could hardly see the scars beneath it, a legacy of her career in law enforcement, like the small circular slightly raised scar just to the right of her heart. "Ah, it's been three days, I think," She said, trying to remember, it had either been two or three, but she figured it was closer to three by now. She grins, "I've always been lucky," Kat mused, remembering a few near death experiences on the job. "Got this as a joke, after a couple of incidents." She turned slightly and on her right side, half of a small four leaf clover tattoo was showing above the waistline of her jeans.

Kat shrugged, "Killing me wasn't their first priority. They just wanted me weak enough to not fight back." Though she figured they would've killed her after they were finished. Then the brunette nodded, "Yeah, actually, a shower would be nice." She eyed her clothing, "But first I'll need to find something else to wear, I'm not putting these back on until they are cleaned." She chuckled faintly. Now that cleaning them was an option, she had no urge to put her gross clothes back on.
 
"Eh, four leaf clover. You Irish?" He rolled his lip as he frowned at her injuries. "Yeah they fucked you up good." He glanced down the hallway. "They got a mom and a teen daughter in this family. Maybe they have some clothes that will fit you."

Daryl looked at her. "I dunno. You're kinda tiny." He left the room in pursuit of clothing, then poked his head back in the bathroom. "You coming?"

As an afterthought he grabbed his crossbow and leaned it against his shoulder as he walked towards the back bedrooms. He might as well check out the safe and see if the family's dad had any decent clothes that he could wear as well. He only had two outfits and they were getting rather threadbare.

He decided to look for a sheet to cut up to use as bandaging for her ribs. "Broken ribs suck," he muttered. He remembered how they felt and how long it took to heal. It fucking sucked.
 
She shakes her head, "No I'm not. I'm a mutt," Kat grins, "A mix of Native American, and Spanish mostly," she stood up carefully, not bothering with her shirt as she followed him out. "I'll try the daughter's stuff first." He was right, she was tiny. She followed after him, heading for the daughter's bedroom to check out her clothing. Rummaging through the closet she smiled. "Should fit just fine." She grabbed a t-shirt, a pair of shorts and a bra and underwear from the dresser.

"I'm gonna shower quick. Shouldn't take more'n ten minutes." She said as she stepped back into the master bedroom with Daryl. Kat headed into the bathroom, her dog at her heels. The canine would guard the door for her, while she showered, even though there was really no reason to, the dog had his own habits that were set, because of this world. Carefully stripping down, Kat worked her way into the shower.

God. The hot water felt wonderful. She ended up taking closer to fifteen minutes before shutting the water off and climbing out. It took her a while to dry and dress in the shorts and bra. Leaving her dark hair loose she opened the door to join Daryl so that he could bind her ribs. Though the process would hurt, she was looking forward to the slight relief the wrap would give.
 
While she showered he checked out the safe. It was one of those fancy ones, the kind with the fingerprint recognition. The kind that rich city people used. He thought about the family of walkers locked in the garage and shook his head. Shit. It had better be worth it.

To kill time he began to cut the sheets into strips and laid them out to use with Kat. When she came out in the shorts and the tank top he had to look away for a moment. She was suddenly not just another survivor but she was a girl survivor. It made him uncomfortable for some reason. Inside he was still the redneck living in a shed in the woods, not someone who should be in a new-fangled solar-shit house with biometric locks on safes and shit.

Damn.

"Yeah, so..." he left his crossbow on the master bed and stood up. "I watched this being done but I never did it myself." Daryl licked his lips and approached her with the strips of cloth. "I'm gonna try not to hurt you, but I can't promise that I know what the fuck I'm doing."
 
Kat smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed, removing her tank top, so that she was once again in just a bra. "No worries, I can talk you through it, I've had busted ribs before." She says. "Don't worry about hurting me, it will some, You're gonna wanna get it tight enough that you can just barely slide your finger between the cloth and my skin." She murmurs, tipping her body back a bit to expose more of her torso, making it easier for him.

She braced her hands behind her, fisting the blanket under her hand. Kat knew this was gonna be uncomfortable, but in the long run it'd be better. Besides, she could handle a little bit of pain. Like she'd told Daryl, this wasn't her first set of broken ribs, though it was the first time since the world went to hell. "Can you put the knot on the same side as the bruises? That way they won't bother me when I sleep on my other side." She asks softly, her pale eyes looking up to his blue-grey ones.
 
"Yeah," he put a finger to his lips as he contemplated what side of hers was the worst bruised. He knelt on her left side where the injuries looked worst and then placed a band of the sheet around her, snugging the wide cloth so that it had some tension on her body but wasn't trying to cut her in half, and then he flattened his hand on the cloth to allow him to continue winding it about her. The entire process forced him to be right up against her and to move closer, so that he was almost hugging her to get the bindings on. Once the knot was tied he tried to slip a finger between the cloth and her skin. The fit was tight.

Daryl looked up into Kat's eyes and he slowly extracted his hand from beneath her bindings. "That's a helluva break. Those guys do this to you?"

He had had a chance to feel her toned muscles under her skin and to touch the heat of her body, things he hadn't done with anyone in a long time. It felt strange to be there with this girl he didn't even know. Hell, he'd never been this close to Carol or Beth, and they had traveled for a long damn time together.

He didn't want her to think that he was going to try to jump her, so he began to stand and put some distance between them. "I checked out the safe in the master bedroom. It's one of those fingerprint kinds." He wiped the back of his hand across the corner of his mouth. "I figure the dad's the one it's keyed for - he's in the garage if we want to try to open that safe."
 
She sat still for him, tensing a bit occasionally, it hurt like hell to have him wrap her ribs. Kat would admit to the soft shivers that ran through her when Daryl's arms came around her and when his finger slid between her binding and her skin. Though it could easily be passed off as pain, it was anything but pain that was making her shiver. The brunette nodded, "They got me on the ground and one, I think it was the leader kicked me a few times." She murmured, looking up as he started to step back.

It surprised her that she didn't really want him to. Especially given what just almost happened to her, she should be relieved that he didn't stay close any longer than necessary. But Kat was discovering that she very much enjoyed when Daryl was close to her. "Fancy," She said when he mentioned the fingerprint safe. Then she nodded again, "Mind as well, since he's here. And now it kinda has me curious. What was special enough to keep in a high tech safe." She chuckled a bit as she stood up and carefully put the t-shirt on.

Though they still ached, it felt much better having pressure on her ribs, and it should help them heal faster. "Not entirely sure how much help I'll be, but I'll do my best," She says with a faint smile.
 
He grunted at the description of her assailants. "Cowards." He muttered, shaking his head. "Yeah, I've met a few of those too." He put a hand to his bottom lip as he glanced around the room.

"I just need something to put it in. It'd be a shame to stink up the house with the smell of rot." He made a sound at the base of his throat and then went into the bathroom and got a plastic bag from the waste basket and stuffed it in his back pocket. "Alls I need you to do is be there," he said, regarding getting the hand.

"Oh and," he reached behind himself and pulled out a .45 caliber pistol, holding it hilt-first towards her. "Take this. If one of them walkers bites me you take care of things, okay?" He looked at her as if measuring the amount of fight in her. "The safety is between your ears so be careful where you point that rock-thrower. I'm gonna want that back one day, but for now you need something more than just a steak knife and a dog to protect yourself."

He nodded and then glanced towards the door. "Let's go get us a fingerprint." His smile was thin; no matter how many of these things he killed it was still a battle that could lead to death. Or worse. He would never get used to it, no matter how calm or nonchalant he seemed on the outside.
 
She nodded, taking the gun, automatically pointing the muzzle towards the ground. She knew how to safely handle guns. She met his eyes confidentially. "I'll handle it," She assures him. then nods again, "I've handled this type before." The gun settled nicely in her hand and she realized just how much she's missed having a gun. She glanced at her dog, murmuring a command that had him snapping to her left side, body poised for whatever was to come, head tilted up, eyeing glittering, to the dog this was just another game. "Let's get a fingerprint," She murmured in agreement.

Kat fell into step behind Daryl, albeit moving slower than he did. But she did her best not to be too slow, the bindings made it easier to ignore the throbbing in her side as they descended the stairs once more. As the approached the door to the garage Kat murmured "Platz." A german command that had Jasper dropping to the ground. The space was tight and she didn't want the dog getting in the way unless he was needed. "You planning on just cutting the hand off?" She asked curiously, wondering what it was exactly that Daryl had in mind for this.
 
He slid a toothpick between his lips and chewed on the end, his mind working better when his mouth was busy. As they made their way back to the garage he noticed that she still moved slowly, but he figured that she was a big girl - if she wasn't going to complain about her pain he wasn't going to mention it. His warning sign on the door was a dim reminder that he had never intended to stay her, yet now he was planning on staying as long as the food held out and the rooms were safe. Meeting the girl and her dog had changed everything.

"Naw, not just the hand. We might as well put them out if we're going to stay here." He glanced back at her and set his crossbow next to the door as he pulled out a long buck knife. "It's better to leave no loose ends." He turned the handle to the garage and opened the door, stepping into the darkened room. A quick flick of the switch and the garage was flooded with light.

The Suburban in the garage was full of the late family, their eyes sharp and hungry as they turned their faces towards the light. Daryl looked back at Kat. "You ready for this?" He asked, the toothpick twitching slightly as he bit down on it. He moved towards the vehicle once he was sure she was ready. It wouldn't do to go in before she was mentally ready to get dirty. It was a shame, though - they both had just taken a nice, hot shower. They'd probably have to get cleaned up again... though the prospect of hot shower number two wasn't something that he would not want to enjoy.
 
She nods, moving with him. "You want me to open the door, one at a time for them?" she asks, it would likely be the easiest job for her with the least chance that she'd get further injured or bit. She rolled her shoulders as she prepared. She didn't mind killing these things, she just didn't like that there was always a chance that she could turn into one, if she made a simple mistake. "If we open the doors one at a time, we should be able to do this fairly easily." She eyed the family, still sitting in their seats in the family truck.

Tilting her head she moved closer, "Are they buckled in?" Wouldn't that be nice, make things much much easier on them if they were trapped in. It looked like it was a possibility, the things weren't moving around much in the car, though that could just be from the lack of anything to do, until now. Her pale eyes tracked over the car as she waited for Daryl's response. She tried to peer into the dusty, dingy windows, ignoring the snarls, trying to make out if they were strapped into their seats or not.
 
"That.. that would be perfect." For a moment she reminded him of Beth. Capable but sweet, considerate. He leaned in and peered into the window of the SUV and nodded. "Looks like all of them, 'cept that little one," he pointed out a smaller walker who was crawling over the others. It looked like it had been in grade school. "That one was probably the infected one that bit the others." He noted that the shoulders of the older kid in the back had been gnawed on. What a way to go, all buckled in nice and safe...

Ironic.

"Alright." He spit the toothpick onto the garage floor and nodded to her. As she went from door to door he piked the undead family members through their skull. The little one tried to get at them, but it was slow and badly decomposed. Finally they came to the door closest to the little one and Daryl had to grab the thing by the back of it's rotting neck to shank it through the skull. He never preferred the up close and personal stuff. At least, not when it came to killing walkers.

"Think the prints are from the dad?" He walked over and cut the father's hand off and then picked it up by its wrist. "Let's go see what's in that safe of yours."

He smiled at her. The dead behind them were all but forgotten. "You lead. I don't want to rush you and that injury of yours." Once they cleared the garage he shut the door behind them to keep the stench out of the house. There was no reason they had to taint their little temporary home with the smell...
 
She nodded, and slowly she worked her way around the SUV with Daryl, opening each door for him to kill the dead. She'd admit when it came to killing the final one, what had once been a child, she did flinch a bit. Kat knew it was necessary, but that didn't mean it still wasn't hard, to watch what had once been a kid to be killed with a knife through the skull. "Probably," She mused, when he asked if she thought it was the father's prints. But she hardly flinched when he cut off the father's hand. Nodding she began to move back inside, she kept a fairly steady pace, hardly slower than normal.

Jasper waited where Kat had left him, poised in his down position, ready to spring at her command. "Free." She signaled, releasing the dog from his position and allowing him the freedom to do as he pleased. Immediately the dog came to her side, nosing her as if checking to make sure she was okay. Rubbing his head softly she continued on as the dog glanced at Daryl, wagging his tail slightly before falling into step beside his mistress.

Once again Katherine inched her way up the stairs, gritting her teeth as she went. Her pace had significantly slowed by the time she had reached the top. Her breathing was deep but that was the only real sign she was in pain. Continuing on she made it to the bedroom, but instead of going for the safe she went right for the bed, sitting on the edge of it. "Shit, that hurts," She muttered, setting a hand on her side "Go ahead and open it, I just need to sit a minute," She said, looking over at Daryl.
 
That dog was something else. The way Kat was able to control it was even more impressive. Daryl thought about her name and what she was doing and it brought a soft chuckled to his lips as he watched her sit on the bed. "I'm not laughing at you hurtin'," he explained, "it's just that you got a damned tight grip on that dog of yours. I never thought I'd see a Kat ordering around a dog like that." His smile turned into a grin. "You musta spent a helluva lot of time working with him."

He went over to the safe with the severed hand in his. It was odd the things that would seem 'normal' now that the world had gone to shit. He hoped that the had guessed correctly that the guy was right handed and swiped the man's right index finger over the sensor. Nothing happened. He took the tail of his shirt and wiped the screen clean, then pressed the finger against it and held it there. A moment later the lock clicked, and he was able to swing it open and reveal what was inside.

There was a 1911 style 9mm, not the best option but better then nothing. He checked it's magazine and found it full, though the cylinder was empty. "It'll do until we can get you something more powerful," he said, handing it stock first to her. "There's another mag in here." He reached in and pulled it out, handing it to Kat as well.

He found some drugs - Oxycontin and Valium, and a few stacks of bonds that were useless now. There were a couple of wooden boxes he passed, unopened, to Kat to explore as he pulled out the last of the items in the vault. He turned over a small prescription bottle in his hand and scoffed. "Little blue pills." These he set on the bed with the others. "That's it, aside from what's in those boxes. Too bad they didn't have something useful like penicillin or a rifle."

He looked over at her and noted her pained expression. "Can I get you something? Some vodka or..." he shook his head. "You're gonna need to stay put for a while until that heals."
 
Kat snickers, "You certainly aren't the first to tease me about that," She grinned, watching him as he opened the safe and took the gun when he offered, it felt good to hold a weapon again. "Yeah, he's six years old now, I got him as a seven week old pup, he was almost fully trained to this level by a year and a half. I worked as private security and he was my partner." She mused, mentioning a bit about her past as she began to go through the items that were in the boxes he passed her. Inside was nothing overly special. Some pieces of expensive jewelry, both his and hers, some old pictures, and other family history stuff. "Nothing helpful here." She said setting the boxes down and looking up at him. "Seeing as there's no pain killers, some alcohol would be lovely." She mused.

She shifted her weight, wincing in pain, "I think after some alcohol, I might curl up for a nap, maybe even in a bed this time, not the tub," She smirked, surely sleeping in the tub hadn't helped her sore body, though she'd felt it was necessary. She stood carefully, holding the weapon pointed at the ground in her left hand. "Should look around for a holster, I'd much rather have one instead of trying to keep it in the waist pant of my pants." She never felt like her weapon was secured there.
 
"Security, huh? You one of those rent-a-cops?" He gave her a quizzical look that was more teasing then condemnation. "You a mall cop or something like that?" He flipped through some of the pictures but they meant nothing to him. Wedding pictures, people with their kids... it was all gone. All dead.

"I'll get you some booze." He indicated his pistol as if asking for it back, now that she had her own. "You sack out and I'll look around; there's no reason for you to be hobbling around like some kinda cripple, anyways." He pulled back the bed covers for her and went to gather up the dead hand in a garbage bag to throw it out. No matter how many of the walkers he came across he hated the stench of rotting human. It was worse than any other kind of decay he had ever smelled.

"You gotta preference?" He looked down at the dog, then back at Kat. "I don't mind being your huckleberry if you need one while your waiting for them ribs to heal." He moved the toothpick in his lips and regarded her as he stood there, the safe still open. For the first time in a long time he felt like it was good that he was still alive. After Beth died he had nearly lost it, but now... maybe eventually he'd be ready to rejoin Rick and the rest. For now he just needed to remember that there were good people still around. Maybe the good ones didn't all die already.

You're gonna miss me when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon.

He could still hear her voice. Maybe he needed a drink too. He went downstairs to see if he could find what Kat has asked for. He found a bottle, plus a few more, and wound up bringing up four bottles and two stout glasses. He found a bag of Doritos and whistled through his teeth in thankfulness. "God bless those solar - powered yuppies," he murmured. He took the stairs two at a time back up to the room that Kat had laid down in.
 
She snorts, "No, I was not. We worked at a hospital, built right between rival gangs. If a gang war erupted, all injured and their families were sent to my ER. I had to keep the peace or stop the violence, depending." She shrugged, "And if there was some important person visiting, either for research, for care, or a important visiting doctor, Jazz and I were assigned as protection detail." She explained. "I was a police officer first, but then ended up switching when an offer presented itself." She relaxed on the bed, and when he indicated she offered the pistol back to him, handle first. "Thanks, and no, no preference as long as it isn't some girly drink."

Kat was sure there wasn't much alcohol in those fruity, girly drinks and this time she was looking for more hard alcohol, something that would really dull the pain. Once Daryl left in search of alcohol she shifted more on the big bed and settled on one side, leaning back against the headboard. "Jazz, up." The big dog leaped and landed gracefully at her feet. There was still plenty of room on the other side, if Daryl wanted to sit down when he returned, while they drank. She rubbed her sore ribs gently as she waited, smiling faintly when Daryl walked in. "Are those Doritos?" She asks, shock in her voice. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had any chip, let along Doritos which had been her favorite.

Grinning she chuckled, "Doritos and alcohol," She shook her head, "Looks like a party to me," Her grey eyes seemed to hold some playfulness now as she looked up at Daryl.
 
He set down some Black Label, a bottle of Old Crow, Amaretto and a half-filled bottle of Cinnamon Schnapps. "They had a few choices," he said, his voice gravely. He handed her the bag of chips and gave her a semi-bashful grin. "Yeah, if they had some of those little wieners then we'd really be pimping it tonight. But maybe tomorrow we'll find, like, a can of Spam."

He opened the bottle of Jack and poured himself a couple of fingers, then asked her what kind she wanted, pouring her a generous glass. He raised his up and nodded. "Here's to not being dead."

Daryl took a seat at the desk and propped his boots on the table top. He leaned back and took a drink, crossing his arms over his chest afterwards and just feeling the welcoming burn travel down his throat and spread across his chest like wings. "I didn't find any beer for Jasper. Sorry about that."

He tilted his head and looked at the dog some more. She said that she had worked at a hospital. Had it been the same one that Beth had been at? "You... didn't work at Grady Memorial, did you?" He took another sip. Damn, if she was one of those nutcases... he swallowed down the warm inner hug and then took another.

"So, police. What, was the pay better or something?" He thought of Rick. It looked like he was bound to be around badges for the rest of his life; he might as well get used to it. "I suppose it's good they let you keep your dog." The Jack was doing well; pretty soon he might be able to actually sleep through the night.
 
She grins, taking the bag and opening it, setting it on the edge of the bed where they could both reach it. She opted for the same thing he had and murmured a thanks as she took the glass. She took a slow drink, hissing at the flavor, it'd been a long, long time since she'd had any alcohol. Tiltiing her head Kat shook her head, "No, I worked in Los Angeles, I was just out here to give a seminar to a affiliate hospital on what it takes to run and maintain a K9 unit. It wasn't Grady." She said, wondering why exactly he seemed to not like that particular hospital. But she didn't feel like she knew him well enough to ask.

Chuckling, "Yeah the pay was better, but I'd'a been more than happy staying as a cop, except, I fell in love with my partner who also happened to be of a higher rank. I could've transferred but as all that was happening the hospital offered me a position on their K9 unit." She shrugged, taking another drink. "I actually didn't have Jazz yet. I got him after I joined the hospital. He was flown in from the Czech Republic as a pup. I was surprised they let me raise a pup, usually I'd get an adult already. But while Jazz was in training, I worked with one of their more tough dogs, He eventually retired with me, when Jazz was ready to go to work."

She took another long drink, getting use to the burn. "I can't remember the last time I had alcohol, I think it was before all this happened." Kat mused, looking over at Daryl as she ate a chip.
 
He gave her a long, hard look as they sat there and sipped the Jack and ate chips. "Alright," he finally said. "So you're not from Grady - that's good to know." He took another drink, this one more a swallow than a sip. "Yeah... nothing bad that my friends Jack Daniel and Jim Beam can't fix." He chuckled. "That was one of my Pa's favorite sayings."

The chips gave a nice balance to the drink. He thought about the steak they had enjoyed earlier and it felt like a damn celebration. It had been a long time since he'd had a shower too - this was like fucking Christmas or something. "Are you trying to get back to LA then?" His voice was gravely and his eyes half-lidded, the buzz from the drink was nice to feel after all the fighting and the running. The last time he had let loose like this was with... hell. It was with her. These things all reminded him of her.

"To your lover, I mean. You trying to get back to find out if he's still alive?" He saw that his glass was empty and he set it down on the night stand before leaning back on the chair. He could almost fall asleep on that chair.
 
She shook her head, "No. He died eight or so months before this all happened." She murmured, remembering her husband. "Shootout with a couple gang members." Her hand stroked her dog as she finished her drink, feeling the pleasant buzz going. She eyed Daryl, "Ya know, there's plenty of room up here, if ya wanna sit on the bed." She murmured, the chair didn't look all that comfortable, and she really wasn't taking up much room on the bed. Tilting her head she watches Daryl, "Are you from around here?" She asks curiously. Given his accent she'd assume he was, but one never knew.

Kat could feel the alcohol really hitting her system and she snuggled down further in the bed, knowing she'd end up falling asleep, and she didn't mind. The alcohol was numbing the pain she felt in her body so it would be nice to sleep pain free for the first time in three days. Maybe she'd even sleep without having any dreams or nightmares. She had always been a vivid sleeper, often having strange and unexplainable dreams, or terrifying nightmares that had her waking panting and wide eyed. Maybe the alcohol would dull her mind enough to not have to deal with that for a night.
 
He had died. Daryl's eyes flickered momentarily. Damn it - everyone dies.] You get close to them, you care about them, and then they have to go and fucking die. He drew in a breath and let it out, then took a deep drink of the Jack. "I'm sorry about your man." He thought about Carole and the way Ed's death had been a blessing for her. It didn't seem like it had been a blessing for Kat.

When she mentioned that he could sit on the bed he eyed her suspiciously. What was she trying to do?

"Are you from around here?" She asks curiously.

"I don't even know where 'here' is," he answered, still checking her out. "I'm from North Georgia. Ever hear of Hiawassee?" He took another drink. "It wasn't too far from where I grew up." Growing up was an understatement. He survived. It was at least as hard then as it was now, except he got to shoot the things that made it hard to live now.

"You born in LA?" He hadn't detected an accent, but he was pretty bad at that shit anyhow. The bed did look more comfortable than the chair, and though he could sleep in another room, it was safer to stay closer together.

"If you think Jaz won't get upset with me, I'll join you up there." He glanced over at the dog. "I'm not stupid enough to get between a dog and his girl, though." He winked at Jasper. "You'll always be top dog."

When he went to take another drink he saw that he was empty, so before moving to the bed he got up and refilled his glass. If Kat needed more he'd pour more for her too.
 
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