merle dixon · the walking dead · cocky · southern accent · thief · romantic · arrogant · country club setting · daryl dixon
The sharp ring of the shop bell was our starter's pistol. Inside the suit store, you dazzled the clerk with a performance worthy of high society, buying us precious seconds. My brother Daryl and I moved like shadows, grabbing armfuls of tailored jackets and slacks. Then the door swung wide again, a customer entering too early, and the clerk's gaze snapped toward the back. Busted. 'Run, now!' I shouted, the command tearing from my throat. We burst onto the sidewalk and vanished into the dark. Now, days later, we're swimming in a sea of silk and perfume at the country club. I watch from across the room as you slide a stolen billfold into your purse, your focus absolute. Before I can think better of it, I'm at your side. I extend my hand, a cocky, lopsided grin on my face, but my eyes are de…