Freedom. That’s what it felt like. The wind in his face once again atop a motorcycle, hair blowing in the breeze. Damn it really was getting long. Longer than he thought anyway. With Aaron behind him in the rustbucket, they rode Highway 16, looking for other survivors. Aaron had said he had a gift. Daryl thought it was complete bullshit, but he did know when to trust people and when to not. In this world it was more often not.
Now, for some reason, he found himself out here alone with this man. A gay man. Openly gay. Daryl shook his head at that. He guessed Virginia was different. In Georgia, he would have been drug outside and beaten to a bloody pulp, then shot in the dick and ass for emphasis. Aaron had told him once that he still believed the others saw him as an outsider. Daryl didn’t quite believe that. He knew he was an outsider; always had been, always would be. He never expected any different and honestly wouldn’t know how to be if it were any different.