"And less," she agrees, sawing off thick slices of brown bread for each of them. Daryl's going to need more than one good meal to make up for Negan, but a good meal is somewhere to start. She sets two slices of bread on each plate and pushes one toward him on the counter. He can take what he wants; she'll talk to anyone who gives him dirty looks over it.
In the meanwhile, she heads toward the pantry, taking a look at what's already been opened and thus in need of using up. It's how she ends up spreading pureed pumpkin on one of her slices of bread, then paring out thin slices of apple on top of it. Topped with some American cheese, she thinks it kind of begs to be grilled, but that's more effort than she's planning on putting into lunch today.
Maybe they ought to trade-- Daryl's palate is questionable enough to make a pregnant lady meal. This is the closest he's ever been to picky, which is to say he's going to avoid peanut butter a while, and anything that remotely reminds him of dog food.
This all feels so normal as to be totally surreal. Which isn't bad, exactly, it just means he's still on edge, but there's probably nothing at all to be done about that. They get more reasons every day to worry.
And that means there aren't many safe topics. Everything's a damn minefield, you just have to pick what's important enough to risk. Which is why after a moment of trying to decide if pickled beets could conceivably go with apricot jam, he dives back into awkward territory.
"What'd they say about..." he trails off, letting his eyes dip significantly to her middle, not able to finish asking. He's gathered enough not to be in a panic about it-- she's okay, obviously, the baby's okay-- but there's bound to be more to it. How it's going, what happened.
Probably a good idea, keeping away from the mushier, nuttier foods. Maggie watches idly from where she's hoisted herself up on a counter top, taking the occasional thoughtful bite of sandwich. Most of what's available in the kitchen is pre-packaged--the usual kind of survival food--but some of it's fresh. The tomatoes are damned good after a few years eating them out of jars and cans.
"It's called abruptio placentae," she says around a mouthful of sandwich. "Means everything keeping the baby in place got separated from me."
It's nothing she'd heard of before this. Her experiences with human pregnancy mostly culminated in avoiding it or watching other people go through it, and aside from Lori, they were pretty problem-free. With farm animals, it was plenty of the same. Daryl, though, she has the feeling he's going to have even less experience with the technical details, for all he has experience with animals as well. "Wasn't as bad as it could've been, though. As long as I don't go looking for a fight, the baby's going to be okay."
It was the Saviors' outpost that did it, as far as any of them can tell--Michelle's knife, any of those blows, there were plenty of options--and that means, as antsy as she might get back here, she's staying up here in Hilltop.
He ends up with mostly vegetables-- keeps the beets, passes on the marmalade-- cheese, tomatoes. It doesn't matter much what it tastes like, anyway. It crunches, and that's plenty for him right now. It's decent and he didn't have to sell his soul for it, he's all right.
The condition doesn't mean much but he gets the idea-- the important part is the baby's going to be okay. Of course. She should've been taking it easy already, but that's not the life they get to lead. They've gotta take what little victories they can get.
"That's good," he murmurs after a moment. His usual talent for understatement, because it's everything.
Crunch makes a serious difference--Maggie can respect that as she bites into crisp slices of apples. And for a few moments, it's quiet, just chewing and sandwich-making. It shouldn't be so satisfying to see someone eat, but it is.
"Yeah," she agrees. After everything, this one thing...it doesn't balance the score in the slightest, but at least Abraham and Glenn's deaths weren't entirely in vain. None of this would be worth it if they'd lost the baby, too. At least they didn't end up--she didn't put them--in that clearing for nothing.
She raises her eyebrows at him, not quite smiling but nowhere near a frown. "Aside from the tractor--eh, and punching Gregory--I've been taking it easy."
"Punchin' that asshole's probably good for you," he grunts. Gregory hasn't made any secret of the fact that he doesn't want any of their people here; he's barely tolerant of Maggie, and that alone would be enough to put him on Daryl's shit list. The fact that he's cowardly, barely competent, and way too in love with the idea of himself-- that's just crap icing on the garbage cake. He's not really worth hating, but it's impossible not to take some twisted comfort in the thought.
At least, he hopes it gave her a little stress relief. Baby steps, right?
Maggie laughs. It's a sound still choked by food and sadness, but it's there, something warmer than she might've expected, talking to Daryl. Crossing her dangling ankles, she gives him a nod. On the list of stupid decisions she's made in her life, punching Gregory is low on the list. It wasn't smart, but she doesn't regret it any more than she regrets stealing an apple out of his hands.
But getting into the details of the tractor is probably better than returning to her endless disagreements with Hilltop's leader, especially in public. "The Saviors sent us a present a while ago, bunch of bonfires and a car blasting music. I was supposed to stay off my feet, so..."
She gestures vaguely with the remains of her sandwich. "The thing about tractors--you back one over a car, the car doesn't usually win. And you can do the whole thing sitting down."
The way he sees it, she oughta get a pass on that. On most bad decisions, right now, as long as they don't put her in any danger. Gregory's a shit and even half the people here, he thinks, can tell.
He huffs, something like a laugh. Closer than he's come since-- shit, who even knows. It feels like forever.
"You do that a lot?"
Fuck, the idea of demolition-derby Maggie might be enough to make him smile.
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what_wings_dare2014-02-14 08:31 pm
no subject
In the meanwhile, she heads toward the pantry, taking a look at what's already been opened and thus in need of using up. It's how she ends up spreading pureed pumpkin on one of her slices of bread, then paring out thin slices of apple on top of it. Topped with some American cheese, she thinks it kind of begs to be grilled, but that's more effort than she's planning on putting into lunch today.
no subject
This all feels so normal as to be totally surreal. Which isn't bad, exactly, it just means he's still on edge, but there's probably nothing at all to be done about that. They get more reasons every day to worry.
And that means there aren't many safe topics. Everything's a damn minefield, you just have to pick what's important enough to risk. Which is why after a moment of trying to decide if pickled beets could conceivably go with apricot jam, he dives back into awkward territory.
"What'd they say about..." he trails off, letting his eyes dip significantly to her middle, not able to finish asking. He's gathered enough not to be in a panic about it-- she's okay, obviously, the baby's okay-- but there's bound to be more to it. How it's going, what happened.
no subject
"It's called abruptio placentae," she says around a mouthful of sandwich. "Means everything keeping the baby in place got separated from me."
It's nothing she'd heard of before this. Her experiences with human pregnancy mostly culminated in avoiding it or watching other people go through it, and aside from Lori, they were pretty problem-free. With farm animals, it was plenty of the same. Daryl, though, she has the feeling he's going to have even less experience with the technical details, for all he has experience with animals as well. "Wasn't as bad as it could've been, though. As long as I don't go looking for a fight, the baby's going to be okay."
It was the Saviors' outpost that did it, as far as any of them can tell--Michelle's knife, any of those blows, there were plenty of options--and that means, as antsy as she might get back here, she's staying up here in Hilltop.
no subject
The condition doesn't mean much but he gets the idea-- the important part is the baby's going to be okay. Of course. She should've been taking it easy already, but that's not the life they get to lead. They've gotta take what little victories they can get.
"That's good," he murmurs after a moment. His usual talent for understatement, because it's everything.
no subject
"Yeah," she agrees. After everything, this one thing...it doesn't balance the score in the slightest, but at least Abraham and Glenn's deaths weren't entirely in vain. None of this would be worth it if they'd lost the baby, too. At least they didn't end up--she didn't put them--in that clearing for nothing.
She raises her eyebrows at him, not quite smiling but nowhere near a frown. "Aside from the tractor--eh, and punching Gregory--I've been taking it easy."
no subject
At least, he hopes it gave her a little stress relief. Baby steps, right?
"I wanna hear about the tractor."
no subject
But getting into the details of the tractor is probably better than returning to her endless disagreements with Hilltop's leader, especially in public. "The Saviors sent us a present a while ago, bunch of bonfires and a car blasting music. I was supposed to stay off my feet, so..."
She gestures vaguely with the remains of her sandwich. "The thing about tractors--you back one over a car, the car doesn't usually win. And you can do the whole thing sitting down."
no subject
He huffs, something like a laugh. Closer than he's come since-- shit, who even knows. It feels like forever.
"You do that a lot?"
Fuck, the idea of demolition-derby Maggie might be enough to make him smile.