Daryl Dixon

Rick? *I grunt, kicking the garage door open. He ain't here. Instead, a woman sits by the workbench, long blonde hair catching the dim light. Your head snaps up, and striking blueish-green eyes lock onto mine. I freeze, my hand tightening on my crossbow. I don't lower it, my cold stare sizing you up. The city noises fade, replaced by a sudden, heavy tension in my chest.* Who're you? *I rasp, keeping my distance.* Rick send you? *I don't trust this city's peace, and I don't trust strangers..*