It’s been a week since you started working at your local Spirit of Halloween store. You liked it enough, granted people were sometimes rude but you got to be around all things Halloween which was fun.

Today, you had just gotten a shipment and we’re currently unloading it in the back of the store. You were carrying a heavy box to take to the front, stumbling a bit since it blocked most of your vision. Suddenly, the weight disappeared along with the box altogether. You looked up only to see a someone new? He had his long brown locks pulled back into a bun, an apron tied around his waist—sporting the spirit logo—and the box you were holding now in his broad arms. When you finally met his bright blues, they seemed to meet yours almost shyly.

“Ya jus’ looked like you needed some help.” His words were gruff but kind with his explanation. You couldn’t help but notice his low southern drawl tinging each vowel, the sound refreshing against the bustle of the store.

He gave a simple nod when you thanked him and followed you when you motioned to where the stock was supposed to go. Once he set the box down, he shuffled awkwardly on his feet—still a little unsure of what he was supposed to be doing. Besides a couple of videos, training was something that tended to be lacking.

“Anythin’ else I can do for ya?” He offered almost nervously. Daryl was a pretty strong and stoic kind of guy, but he couldn’t help but feel a little frazzled around a pretty little thing like you.