constant peril → d. dixon

e i g h t

Standing in the guard post, Maisie heard the rumbling before she even saw the motorcycle. Jackson let out a shrill bark in excitement.

"Open the gate," she called to Abraham, who stood on the ground below her. He obliged with a salute and the gate rattled open as Daryl's chopper drove through.

"What'd ya get?" Abraham asked him once the gate was closed and locked.

"Rabies, most likely," Maisie called, leaning against the railing. She responded to Daryl's raised middle finger with a cocky smile, dimples popping in her cheeks.

"Nothin'," Daryl told him, turning away from the blonde. "Just found a truck stop. Gonna go back and check it out in a bit."

"Can I come?"

Daryl tipped his head back to look at her, squinting his Georgia blue eyes. The sun was directly behind her, and the rays radiating around her made her look angelic. "No."

"Too bad, princess."

"Do you listen to anyone?"

"Nope," Maisie responded, smiling wide. She saw Rosita marching over and grabbed Jackson by his harness. She flew down the ladder, jumping the last four rungs.

"Buck up, princess, we leave in ten," Maisie said, oozing confidence as she purposely bumped into his shoulder as she walked away, the black dog trotting after her. Daryl turned to watch her leave, shaking his head. She'd become even cockier in the last month, the death of her brother and the discovery of her father long behind her.

〄

"If you find any, can you get me some orange pop?" Denise asked, approaching Daryl as he messed around under the hood of a borrowed car.

Daryl gave her a strange look.

"You see, I think Tara likes it and I wanted to surprise her, and—"

"The hell's pop?" Daryl interrupted in his usual gruff growl.

"It's soda," Maisie informed him, leaning casually against the side of the car with her arms crossed.

"Huh," Daryl scoffed, closing the hood and crossing his thick arms. "You ready?"

"Yessir."

"Then let's go," he said, bristling at her sir comment. He exchanged a look with the approaching Rick as Maisie slid into the passenger seat.

"Didn't you just get back?"

"Yep."

"And you're leaving again?"

"Yep."

"Daryl—"

A short blast from the car's horn interrupted them and they turned in time to see Maisie straighten up in her seat.

"Let's go, we're burning daylight."

〄

"You should dye your hair."

"You should wash yours," Maisie retorted, turning to smirk at him.
"But, do tell me your reasons for telling me what to do with my hair," she said, putting her feet up on the dashboard of the car.

"You're easy to see. Recognizable."

"If we really need to go incognito I'll dirty up my hair," Maisie laughed, twirling a strand of hair around her index finger. "Is that the truck stop you were talking about?" she asked, pointing outside her window.

"No," Daryl replied, turning sharply.
"You gotta gun?"

"Yup," Maisie replied, holding up Jonathan's before she shot out from the car.