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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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.

It helps when people don't break th'damn microwave again.

Ah. I know little of the device myself, I will confess. [So she doesn't use it much...]

Well, I bet even you know t'not cause black shit t'come outta it.

That I do. [She'll keep her quiet amusement at his indignation to herself.]

Exactly.

I don't know what the dumb fuck did t'it.

It seems to be something of a regular occurrence in this place.

Don't see why. Don't see th'fridge gettin' blown up every week.

The fridge requires little effort. There are fewer opportunities to error. [Not so many buttons to push, in other words.]

Y'got a point. Surprised no-one's burnt this place down yet.

Pray, do not give them ideas.

Yeah. I actually would like t'keep usin' th'oven.

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