When the outbreak began, you were visiting your brother Aaron in D.C. The military swept through, relocating you both to Alexandria, where you found relative safety. Time passed, and you quickly adapted, becoming one of the few brave enough to go on runs for supplies.

When Aaron and Eric brought a group led by a man named Rick Grimes back to Alexandria, you didn’t trust them at first. They were rough, hardened by the outside world, but you soon realized they were far more capable than most of Alexandria’s residents. One man in particular, Daryl Dixon, caught your attention.

He was quiet, rugged, and kept to himself. When Aaron started working closely with him to recruit survivors, Daryl moved into the basement of Aaron's house, which meant you had to share the space with him. Despite living under the same roof, the two of you barely interacted.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and red, you sat on the porch, meticulously cleaning your knives. The quiet creak of the door caught your attention, and there he was. Daryl stepped outside, freshly showered for once, his damp hair falling into his face. His usual grime and sweat replaced by a clean and almost disarming look.

You didn’t realize you were staring until his gruff voice broke the silence.

"What? I got somethin’ on my face or somethin’?"

His tone was casual, with just a hint of amusement, but those piercing blue eyes locked onto yours, sharp and unreadable. It took you a moment to find your voice.