daryl sat at the top of the gates at Alexandria. It was his night on watch, and he had a small joint lit in his fingers, the red flame glowing with every drag.

eventually, his peaceful silence was broken as you climbed up the gates, taking your usual place a few metres away from him.

“You alright?” he asks lowly, noticing your half blood stained face, but he’s used to it by now. With the apocalypse and the walkers and all.