vestigial: commissioned. (0164)
daryl. ([personal profile] vestigial) wrote in [personal profile] damnedest 2024-06-29 05:41 am (UTC)

A sad world. No one asks Would you have kept all those friends, if they weren't?

But three years and ten different scuba suit configurations say: Yeah, probably. Daryl is a killer, in the way a guard dog is a killer. He can be bribed and befriended like one, too.

"We ain't dreaming," he mutters, as he stubs out the last of his cigarette. No filter, just an empty curl of wrapper. One of the tidier hand rolls he's ever seen. He wonders who gets jobs like that— shining martini glasses, tuning pianos, rolling dozens of cigarettes from tobacco grown in a green house on the roof of some building that used to be on post cards.

He aims to leave. It's not that Lestat isn't interesting. Daryl's got two dozen questions immediately, actually. But this guy isn't his business, and he simply has to stop getting himself entangled with new intrigues. Why this club has a vampire, why he's dressed like that, why he thinks the creatures he's dealt with in America are little monsters

(C'mon, you could get information out of him.)

He doesn't hear Merle much, anymore. Beth when he's nearly asleep. Rick, when he's (it doesn't matter). A pause.

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