Future Ghosts • TWD

11. Alien Spaceship.

Rosie slumped down into the passenger seat of the truck, fiddling with the small, plastic velociraptor in her fingers while Daryl sat beside her, his attention fully on driving.

It was silent, and it had been for awhile. They didn't even play any music. Just nothing. Rosie was fine with it at first- she'd never been one for social interaction- but the more time she spent with the redneck, the more questions she thought up.

Even though he didn't want to admit it, Daryl wasn't too keen on the silence either. He had a lot of questions that had been bouncing around in his own mind about the girl, ever since she punched Carl. He didn't plan on asking them, though.

The air felt tense and awkward.

The main thing Daryl wanted to know was what Rosie had against Shane and what she didn't have against himself. Was it really all because of whatever her dad said about each of them? She hated Shane because he was cop and David hated cops, and she liked Daryl because Daryl was David's friend? Did it really all depend on David?

He decided not to ask these questions because it wouldn't matter by the end of the week. He would inevitably say something shitty and the girl would hate his guts, just like everyone else.

But for now, Daryl was stuck with Rosie. She wouldn't ride with Shane or T-Dog or Rick, the other cars were full, and the RV was crowded. It was either she rode with Daryl or she got left behind. He was an asshole, but he wasn't going to leave some little girl behind in the middle of nowhere. Especially not with the dead walking around.

Rosie huffed, setting her velociraptor down on the seat next to her and crossing her arms. She leaned her head against the window and watched the trees go by- only for a couple seconds though, because the glass was cold and every time Daryl would hit a small bump, her head would smack against the window. It already hurt enough from being knocked out three times.

Daryl huffed too, all of his questions nagging at his mind. It wouldn't hurt to ask just one of them, right? "So what's yer problem with Deputy Dipshit?" he asked.

"He's bossy an' annoyin'. And a cop," Rosie answered monotonously.

"Yer dad tell ya that?" Daryl asked her, trying not to think about the fact that his brother killed her dad.

Turning away from the window to look at Daryl, Rosie gave him a pointed look. "Ya ever listen ta Depeche Mode?" she asked him. He furrowed his eyebrows with confusion, glancing at her for moment. "Words are very unnecessary," Rosie said to him with a blank look on her face and a monotonous voice, "that's what they said."

Scoffing, Daryl bit back a laugh. Rosie stared at him, her eyebrows raised. He glanced at her, confused as to why she was confused. "What?" he asked when she didn't cease her staring.

"You don't know Depeche Mode?" she asked, clearly shocked by this bit of information.

"Why the hell would I know who Depeche Mode is?" Daryl grumbled.

"'Cause you're old," Rosie said, as if it were obvious. "Old people like Depeche Mode."

"I ain't old," Daryl retorted.

"Yeah ya are," Rosie said, scrunching her eyebrows together. "You're grumpy and ya drive a truck."

"That's what old means to you?" he asked, scrunching his eyebrows together in amusement. Rosie just shrugged before picking up her bag. She pulled out the dinosaur activity book that she'd gotten from the vatos and started doing a word search. Daryl's amusement quickly faded as the cars ahead of him slowed to a stop. Why the hell were they stopping? They weren't even close to the CDC yet.