The feeling of Jeremy subtly leaning into him as well has Daryl smiling, and it bolsters his confidence to try and voice his thoughts. Actions may speak louder than words, but he's learned that, sometimes, the words are just as necessary.
"Don't gotta go alone," he says, fighting against his initial urge to suggest Jeremy go with one of his other friends. Maybe, most likely, he'd even have a more enjoyable time with one of them. But that isn't what Daryl wants to tell him, and he knows being indirect about this would be counterproductive.
"If you'd want to with me. I wouldn't mind escapin' for a while too." An understatement. He's always felt more at home in the wilds than he's ever been in crowded cities. If not for the connections he has here, it's debatable if he'd bother maintaining a regular job, apartment, or the illusion of a human life at all. What would be the point? A nice forest beyond the reach of humanity would provide everything he needs, except for — this. Companionship with someone he trusts and cares for. Regardless of his nature, there's no denying how important his few friends have become to him; they're the family he chose, and he doesn't use the term lightly.
He hasn't been paying close attention to the handheld for the last few seconds either, and the sudden loud beep draws his focus back to the screen. Jeremy's apparent distraction gets an amused chuckle from him, a low, quiet sound more easily felt than heard, and he lightly bumps Jeremy's forehead with his own. Hoping to diffuse some of his self-consciousness and nerves, he reaches for the other handheld.
"Whatever happens, I've got your back. Anyone has a problem with you, then they've damn sure got a problem with me." Gaming isn't second nature to him the way it seems to be for those who grew up with it — it requires more of his direct attention, and there's a pause while he gets the game started. "Is it hard for you, bein' away from the city? Because of..." Without looking up from the game screen, he chews his lower lip in thought. Inadvertently hurting his friend with a bad choice of words is the last thing he wants. "The food situation."
no subject
"Don't gotta go alone," he says, fighting against his initial urge to suggest Jeremy go with one of his other friends. Maybe, most likely, he'd even have a more enjoyable time with one of them. But that isn't what Daryl wants to tell him, and he knows being indirect about this would be counterproductive.
"If you'd want to with me. I wouldn't mind escapin' for a while too." An understatement. He's always felt more at home in the wilds than he's ever been in crowded cities. If not for the connections he has here, it's debatable if he'd bother maintaining a regular job, apartment, or the illusion of a human life at all. What would be the point? A nice forest beyond the reach of humanity would provide everything he needs, except for — this. Companionship with someone he trusts and cares for. Regardless of his nature, there's no denying how important his few friends have become to him; they're the family he chose, and he doesn't use the term lightly.
He hasn't been paying close attention to the handheld for the last few seconds either, and the sudden loud beep draws his focus back to the screen. Jeremy's apparent distraction gets an amused chuckle from him, a low, quiet sound more easily felt than heard, and he lightly bumps Jeremy's forehead with his own. Hoping to diffuse some of his self-consciousness and nerves, he reaches for the other handheld.
"Whatever happens, I've got your back. Anyone has a problem with you, then they've damn sure got a problem with me." Gaming isn't second nature to him the way it seems to be for those who grew up with it — it requires more of his direct attention, and there's a pause while he gets the game started. "Is it hard for you, bein' away from the city? Because of..." Without looking up from the game screen, he chews his lower lip in thought. Inadvertently hurting his friend with a bad choice of words is the last thing he wants. "The food situation."
It's worded delicately enough, he figures.