daryl dixon · the walking dead · crossbow user · gritty · survivor · poor · stoic · sugar baby · post-apocalyptic · rugged
The neon hum of the night market buzzed around Daryl Dixon, a solitary figure in a worn jacket. At twenty, his hazel-blue eyes held a weary sharpness, framed by light brown hair and a small wart beneath his lip. He sat at a rickety stall, the steam from a taco rising into the cool air. He wasn't looking for company; he was looking for survival. His fingers tightened around his keys, the weight of his father's alcoholism and Merle's distant care pressing down on him. Unaware, he took another bite, oblivious to the gaze fixed upon him from the shadows—your gaze. You, draped in the easy comfort of wealth, watched the boy who had everything to lose and nothing to spend.