Maggie snorts. "I'd be more impressed if you screwed it up. Only one way to spell it."
It must've taken a long time, sitting there and doing one dot at a time, and that's nice to think about, in a way. They had a couple hours out there when they were happy. They must have--they'd have shown up with half a tattoo, not two of them, under worse circumstances.
Well, true. It's strange to look on anything after the prison fell with such fondness, but they had been happy. As happy as anyone lost could be, he figures; still alive, and that's what it always comes back to.
He halfway wants to say he's sorry for having lost her, but the words dry up before he can put them into the right shape. No point focusing on that. She knows, anyway. He'd have done anything to keep Beth safe-- to keep any of them safe. Should've done more.
"Let her get us drunk," he admits, and doesn't have the grace to sound particularly guilty about it. She'd probably find out eventually anyway.
Maggie's brows shoot up, something tightening in her chest. Drunk. It's the kind of thing they might have argued about, under better circumstances. After every story Dad told you, you went off and got drunk in the woods?
But these aren't great circumstances, and if anything's screwed her sister up lately, it's nothing that happened with Daryl looking out for her. If Beth had to get drunk, she could've picked worse company.
She's silent, taking the measure of Daryl's expression, and then she shrugs. "How'd that happen?"
Yeah. Knowing their father, it's not a surprise that she's so taken aback. If Hershel Greene were alive-- well, that's the problem.
"She was grievin'," he murmurs, lifting his shoulder in a shrug. Makes perfect sense to him. Sometimes that drives you to dumb shit, leaves you a little crazy. She'd lost goddamn everything, she needed a break from being who she was. Maybe both of them did.
With any luck both of them came through it stronger.
They all had their moments of lunatic determination after the prison's fall, she suspects, even if they only happened inside their own heads. Can she really begrudge Beth hers? It was stupid--really damned stupid--but at least she wasn't doing it alone.
And it was living. It's not what happened at the farm. Even if it was risky, it wasn't about trying to die. For that much, Maggie can be grateful.
"Mm," she agrees, glancing over at her sister again. What matters is that they've got her back. If her little adventures with Daryl become a problem in the future, that's when they'll handle them. In the future. The smile she gives Daryl is soft-edged, a little on the tired side. "We all will be. Just need some time."
Really damn stupid, but they needed it. Same with-- well, everything out there. Maggie had her chance at teen rebellion before everything went to shit; it's not the same, but it is in a way.
She's not just one of the kids now. Not to him, not to herself.
"Some time and some place," he murmurs, a shadow passing over his features for a moment. It's hard to imagine starting over-- building a home from scratch again, trying to find some semblance of safety.
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It must've taken a long time, sitting there and doing one dot at a time, and that's nice to think about, in a way. They had a couple hours out there when they were happy. They must have--they'd have shown up with half a tattoo, not two of them, under worse circumstances.
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He halfway wants to say he's sorry for having lost her, but the words dry up before he can put them into the right shape. No point focusing on that. She knows, anyway. He'd have done anything to keep Beth safe-- to keep any of them safe. Should've done more.
"Let her get us drunk," he admits, and doesn't have the grace to sound particularly guilty about it. She'd probably find out eventually anyway.
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But these aren't great circumstances, and if anything's screwed her sister up lately, it's nothing that happened with Daryl looking out for her. If Beth had to get drunk, she could've picked worse company.
She's silent, taking the measure of Daryl's expression, and then she shrugs. "How'd that happen?"
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"She was grievin'," he murmurs, lifting his shoulder in a shrug. Makes perfect sense to him. Sometimes that drives you to dumb shit, leaves you a little crazy. She'd lost goddamn everything, she needed a break from being who she was. Maybe both of them did.
With any luck both of them came through it stronger.
"Ain't so bad. She'll be all right."
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And it was living. It's not what happened at the farm. Even if it was risky, it wasn't about trying to die. For that much, Maggie can be grateful.
"Mm," she agrees, glancing over at her sister again. What matters is that they've got her back. If her little adventures with Daryl become a problem in the future, that's when they'll handle them. In the future. The smile she gives Daryl is soft-edged, a little on the tired side. "We all will be. Just need some time."
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She's not just one of the kids now. Not to him, not to herself.
"Some time and some place," he murmurs, a shadow passing over his features for a moment. It's hard to imagine starting over-- building a home from scratch again, trying to find some semblance of safety.
But they can't stay on the road forever.