Whether his put-upon tone or the farcical twist that, let's face it, could only happen to them, Carol isn't so restrained in showing her laughter. If she had anyone to tell this story to she'd already be thinking of the cleverest wording for the precise expression on Daryl's face. (Lori would have gotten a kick out of it for sure, and Andrea.)
Finally her catch breaks the surface, a thick, wriggly catfish. Daryl's got his wish, it's a decent enough size, and fighting like hell. Carol drags it in and gets a hand on it, digging in its flanging mouth to see if she can wiggle the hook free.
When the hook comes loose to her satisfaction, Carol holds the catfish up for scrutiny. Fifteen inches, not terrible. She then points the fish toward Daryl, her eyes and voice full of laughter.
"I think it's smirking at us."
(She only teases for a moment though, in favor of bringing out a small thin knife and ending the poor thing's suffering with one decisive stab and hanging it on her prepared line to drip. There's joking and then there's cruelty for the sake of a joke.)
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Finally her catch breaks the surface, a thick, wriggly catfish. Daryl's got his wish, it's a decent enough size, and fighting like hell. Carol drags it in and gets a hand on it, digging in its flanging mouth to see if she can wiggle the hook free.
When the hook comes loose to her satisfaction, Carol holds the catfish up for scrutiny. Fifteen inches, not terrible. She then points the fish toward Daryl, her eyes and voice full of laughter.
"I think it's smirking at us."
(She only teases for a moment though, in favor of bringing out a small thin knife and ending the poor thing's suffering with one decisive stab and hanging it on her prepared line to drip. There's joking and then there's cruelty for the sake of a joke.)