just take my hand and be brave [ reid + daryl ]

[technophobics]

we'll say goodbye to this grave

Comments

[vestigial]

Daryl looks away and back to what he's doing, not sure how to handle the— compliment? remark? Because he doesn't have a lot of different talents. All he knows how to do is survive on very little. He supposes it can look that way to people who haven't had to do it, but he still feels strange about having it pointed out.

At least Spencer doesn't actively make him feel like a freak when he says shit like that, though. He seems to mean everything earnestly. It goes a way to unwind some of the tension that threatens to pull a stitch between his shoulders. So he just makes a noncommittal sound, and continues wrapping up the last of his game assortments, one of which he decides at the last minute to keep separated from the rest going out. He's already separated and kept the grossest bits for himself, not wanting to give people anything to waste, but. An idea is forming.

"Yeah?" a glance at the younger man. A bit of relief. Despite the potential for conflict and growing pains, he expected it after seeing how short this place is on protection. But it's still nice to hear. "...Won't be too bad to clear out. Ain't got much activity in the area."

Momentary fidgeting. Daryl fusses with a folded edge of wax paper, uncertain. He's sure Reid won't be unkind to him if he shoots down the offer, but he still finds himself grappling for the fortitude to cough up a question.

[technophobics]

"No," Spencer agrees, "the majority of the work involved will be making sure the buildings are livable, expanding the wall, and extending water and electricity lines out there. We will need more constant surveillance while there's a gap opened up in the wall, though."

Which means a lot of engineering work, which means he's going to busy. He kind of likes keeping busy, though -- it gives him less time to dwell on things he doesn't want to think about.

He's told having friends is good for that, too, but Spencer hasn't had a whole lot of success at that. Like, ever. He's friendly with some people here, and he meets Charlie for a game of chess every Saturday, but that's about it. Daryl's sufficiently interesting enough that it keeps him distracted, though, and maybe a potential friend!

"Have you had lunch yet?" he asks, oblivious for now to Daryl's impending question. "I don't normally eat with everyone-- all the chewing sounds make me want to die, honestly, so I take my food somewhere else." Reid fidgets briefly. This is how friends are made, he tells himself. "Would you like to join me?"

[vestigial]

Daryl's group has done a lot of clearing out. So at least 48 has some extra muscle experienced in this sort of thing, now. They'll be happy to help— something that they all understand, that makes sense, that doesn't require them to try and seem normal during welcoming parties that make everybody feel smothered in shadowed PTSD.

More barely-there fidgeting, worrying at one thumb nail with the same hand's other fingers. He's just deciding not to ask — the answer will be no, anyway — when Spencer goes and beats him to it. For a moment Daryl just looks at him.

"Uh."

Come on, Dixon.

"Sure." A nod, and he quickly looks down at the little wrapped up thing. He slides it closer, intent on scooping it up along with whatever else. "If soup ain't your thing, I can fix these up. See if you can stomach any."

Soup is fine with Daryl, though, and so he's content to get a container of it to go with whatever else is offered. He dimly makes a note about the younger man not liking chewing sounds, and wonders if it's got to do with the whole... reanimated corpses devouring flesh thing. His own table manners are not great (as in, non-existent), but he chews with his mouth closed. Not much of a mouth breather, despite all the smoking no doubt shredding his airways.

SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY the holidays really got the best of me 😭

[technophobics]

"I can stomach a lot of things these days," Spencer replies brightly. "I'd love to try your handiwork-- I bet Jones is happy to have some extra help. We can cook at my place."

Jones just grumbles in the background, still focusing on his soup. He's kind of a perfectionist about food, even in these trying times. No doubt Daryl will get a gruff thank you later for adding to the meat stores.

Spencer gives Daryl a moment to collect what he needs to, and then he leads the way out of the kitchen. "I never used to be able to cook," he confides to Darryl. "I could do sandwiches and some ready-made soup, but that was about it. I used to just order out a lot."

But the end of the world has made a lot of people learn skills they hadn't known before. He wonders if Daryl had known how to butcher before the world had turned upside down. There's something incredibly attractive about the-- not the butchering thing, specifically, but how capable Daryl is at so many things.

Hmmm. There goes that weird feeling in his chest again. That feeling he's come to associate with I am attracted to this person.

Outside of the community center kitchen, it's getting crowded with people waiting on lunch, and they make their way through the crowd to the street outside, where Spencer begins to take the path to the east. "My place isn't far." Then again, it's a five minute walk from east to west inside this closed community, so, everywhere isn't far.