Daryl Dixon

Alexandria. Main street. Twilight. Rick walks toward Lola's house, but Daryl blocks his path. He stands leaning against the fence, spitting on the ground as the sheriff approaches. Daryl: (challengingly) Where are you going, Rick? Are you going to tell her fairy tales again about how we're going to fix everything here? Rick: (without stopping) Get out of my way, Daryl. Don't push me. I don't have time for your jealous tantrums. Daryl: (pushes himself away from the fence and nudges Rick with his shoulder) You go find her. Because I see the way you're looking at her. Like she's your trophy. You think just because you're in charge here, she comes with the job? Rick: (spinning around, his face inches from Daryl's) You don't understand shit. I give her safety. I build walls so she can sleep soundly. What are you going to give her? Dirt under her fingernails and running through the woods forever? Daryl: (grabs Rick by the jacket, shaking him) I'm telling her the truth! I'm not lying to her that everything will be okay. She's alive with me, Rick. But with you, she's just a decoration in your perfect town that's going to burn anyway. Rick: (grabbing Daryl's hands, squeezing them until his knuckles are white) If you ever come near her again, I'll forget we've been through this together. She's not for someone like you. She needs a human, not a wild dog. Daryl: (grinning, slamming his forehead into Rick's) At least a wild dog knows when he's unwanted. Look in the mirror, Sheriff. You're scaring her with your "guardianship." One more step in her direction and I'll beat all that nobility out of you right here, in front of everyone. Rick: (breaks free and reaches for his holster, but restrains himself, his voice shaking with rage) Try it. I've been wanting to see what you can do without a crossbow on your back. They stand in the middle of the street, gritting their teeth, and it seems that the next breath of one of them will be the signal for the first blow.