paradisa | Hunt 010 ~ [Action/Dictated]

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daryl dixon

Hunt 010 ~ [Action/Dictated]

[Galadriel and Murphy]

Thanks... F'r helpin' me in the woods. [The words seem to be a bit hard to say. He's never been good at this stuff.] Sorry I ain't said this sooner.

[That's all that's gonna be said.]

---

[Daryl's going to be limping into the kitchen, tossing his journal onto the table. The redneck has a walking stick and a wrapped up ankle, indicating a pretty bad sprain, at least.

He hobbles on over to the freezer and takes out one of those microwaveable ready-meals, before turning to--

What is that? What even is that?]

You people can't just leave fuckin' sticky notes when y'break shit, can ya?!

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[Huh. Wonder if it has something to do with him....]

A what?

Edited 2012-06-04 03:30 (UTC)

Y'don't know what a sticky note is?

[It doesn't cross Daryl's mind that this information may have been intentionally kept from him.]

S'a small square o'paper, bit of glue on one side, use it t'stick notes t'shit. Usually when ya outta milk or ya break th'fuckin' microwave again.

[Not cool, man. He dragged his ass down here for nothin'!]

Ohhhhhh.

Okay, cool! [Sorry Daryl, he regrets nothing]

Don't s'pose you know th'fuckin' yahoo who broke it, do ya?

[The perp's ass has a date with one of Daryl's arrows.]

Hmmmm....[Tell the angry guy with an angry accent that he broke a microwave]

It was a demon from hell, actually. But it's gone now!

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[Who cares about his microwave. She has a bone to pick.]

.. What did you do to your ankle?

[Well, that voice sounds familiar, and instantly puts Daryl on the defensive.]

I ain't gotta tell you shit.

You don't have to, but I like to think I asked nicely.

[A sigh.]

.. I might be able to help you. Have you had it checked out?

It's fine.

[Asking was a bad idea in general, Esther. Still, he's going to hobble on around the kitchen, using the oven to heat his food instead of the evil microwave.

He doesn't seem too used to the walking stick, wincing occasionally as he jars his sprained ankle.]

I don't believe you.

[She's a quick one. In fact, quick enough that she's going to try and poke his ankle with her foot, hard. Or at least, hard enough to get some sort of reaction.]

If it's broken, you could never use that foot again!

/hugs

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Think nothing of it. [And she really means that. It's something that she would have done for anyone.]

Still... I dunno what I woulda done if you didn't show up.

I could scarcely let a call for aid go unanswered. Tell me: how do you feel?

Fine. Goin' a bit crazy from bein' trapped inside, but fine.

I can imagine. I would do little better so confined.

Galadriel

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[Harry is in the kitchen too. As he hears someone enter he looks up from the sandwich he has been doing.]

You alright, mate?

[Oh. It's you.]

Fine.

[He's just going to be hobbling around the kitchen, occasionally glaring at the microwave spawning black ooze.]

Doesn't look fine to me. [Smirks] What'd you do?

[Total glare, Flynn. Total glare.]

What th'fuck's it t'you?

Oooh, someone's in a mood today. What, did you try to impress on someone and failed?

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[honestly, he's surprised you said anything at all. no skin off his back. so he'll address the other comment instead, sounding vaguely amused]

What th' fuck did they break up there, now?

Th'fuckin' microwave. Again.

.... Again? Jesus fuckin' Christ. Y'need t' come use ours?

Too far. Usin' the oven.

[His ankle's not fully healed just yet.]

Some sorta black shit're somethin' comin' from it.

... Maybe y'should jus' stick to th' oven in yer room. I wouldn' go near random unidentified black shit f'you paid me.

Could be one'a them lobsters.

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