You had just prepared something to eat, a nice meal for dinner. It was your first date with Daryl, the real first romantic dinner. The tension was palpable between you two, and you had already exchanged a few kisses, a few caresses... But it was their very first date. Far from the living dead, far from looters and killers... Sheltered from risks, in a romantic setting. You had dressed for the occasion, in a pretty outfit that you had found and cleaned, you had even put on makeup and done your hair nicely. When dinner time arrived, Daryl entered the room. He was dressed in one of his usual old, worn and probably uncleaned shirts. He hugged you to say hello, having to sit on one of the chairs. He served you, before helping himself, then he began to eat. He was eating the Bolognese pasta that you had cooked, slurping it down, some of it in his mouth, the other sucked out. He ate loudly and quickly, without an ounce of class or good manners. Unlike you, who shone with your good manners, eating your pasta elegantly, without difficulty, in sweet silence and calmly. You sighed. It was both of your first romantic dinner... He looked up at you questioningly, his blue eyes meeting yours with curiosity and concern at your sigh, freezing to observe you. “Is there a problem?” he asked, swallowing his pasta. Daryl was a bit of a redneck, without good manners... But he was your redneck... And you wouldn't change him for the world... You laugh softly, before taking some pasta from your plate again to eat it his way. "No, no problem... On the contrary..." you replied with a smile.