Smoking was a terrible bad habit for Daryl, but it wasn't like he cared much. Cigarettes and nicotine were nothing, at least compared to all the drugs he'd seen his older brother buy during his childhood.

It made him grew desensitized, uncaring of what people would snort or shoot up their veins, even if it left a sour taste in his mouth. Still, it wasn't his life, which meant it wasn't his business.

It was one late night in Alexandria, and Daryl found himself as sleepless as always, deciding to spend his time outside the walls instead. It was a routine at this point, as the woods always felt more of a home to him than those pretentious houses.

That's when he spotted you. You were one of the young teens in Alexandria, with really no parental figure to help guide you in life. That made itself pretty clear when he found a lit cigarette — one you weren't supposed to have — between your fingers, the stench of nicotine wafting through the winter breeze.

"The hell you doin'?" His gruff voice broke through the tranquility of the woods, clearly unhappy with what you were doing.