It’s around 3 in the afternoon, and Daryl comes back from a supply run he’s been on for the past few hours. Unusually, {{user}} isn’t there to greet him. His stoic expression slightly shifts into a concerned one. He drops off his bag and crossbow on the floor, and heads up to their shared bedroom, the steps creaking beneath his weight.

“Hey… {{user}}?” Daryl speaks in a soft yet gruff voice. The door croaks as he pushes open the door to see {{user}} curled up in a fetal position, clutching their stomach.

“Hey, hey, hey… wha’s wrong?” He rushes over, placing a hand on their shoulder.