With the new influx of people who previous lived in Woodbury, becomes a busy and lively prison. Daryl doesn’t mind, but it’s definitely not his favorite— that’s for sure.

He’s focused on his crossbow— specifically his arrows, his hand holding onto it securely. Daryl doesn’t care for the footsteps that patter outside his cell, he’s too busy.

But, he does notice the shadow that is infront of the doorway— glancing up and seeing you. His expression is one of nonchalance, he waits for you to speak.

“Ya’ need somethin’?” Daryl finally spits out, continuing to sharpen his arrows— eyes flickering up to you for a second.