[OOC: Sorry for the wait, DW must've gotten screwy with the notif! Since Jeremy eventually gets mercy killed by Sandy, we could handwave Daryl taking Jeremy back to his camp pretty soon and assume they end up separated at some point? (Or Jeremy intentionally leaves, that's up to you.)]
Were Daryl less experienced with these circumstances, contemplating the objective attractiveness of someone he barely met and how it might've affected business at their restaurant wouldn't have even crossed his mind. But Arenas are sort of old hat at this point and he's learned to enjoy these moments of humour when the opportunity presents itself, which isn't often. He hopes Jeremy never has cause to become similarly accustomed and desensitised to this shit.
Startled by Jeremy's reaction to the dragon, he carefully and quietly edges closer, keeping his body low against the ground to avoid casting a shadow or otherwise broadcasting his position to anything else that may be lurking overhead. With as much as he dislikes being touched himself, his first instinct has never been to reach out and offer physical comfort to others in these sorts of situations. Instead he sits as close as he's comfortable with, leaning down and speaking in a manner one would adopt when soothing a spooked animal.
"Hey, it's alright," he reassures, projecting a calmness he doesn't quite feel. "Dumb bastard didn't even know we're here. Lotta the monsters are like that — got all them nasty teeth and claws, but ain't too bright." It certainly isn't true of every muttation, considering some have seemed to possess fairly advanced intelligence and reasoning, but it's true enough in this instance. At least Jeremy's panic was of the quiet and still variety, and hadn't attracted any unwanted attention.
"Just seems unusual for a restaurant to have night guards," he says, sitting back up after a moment but reluctant to move away just yet. Besides, the perfect excuse to remain there is looking him right in the face. Small, round, whitish caps dot the grass around them, tucked so close to the ground as to be nearly invisible at first glance. "Why was it so dangerous? I mean, why were the robot critters attackin' you?" he wonders and plucks a couple of the mushrooms, eats one, and offers the other to Jeremy. Generally it's better to cook them first, but he knows this species doesn't contain toxins and a fire's too great of a risk at the moment. Maybe just before they leave the area he'll start one.
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Were Daryl less experienced with these circumstances, contemplating the objective attractiveness of someone he barely met and how it might've affected business at their restaurant wouldn't have even crossed his mind. But Arenas are sort of old hat at this point and he's learned to enjoy these moments of humour when the opportunity presents itself, which isn't often. He hopes Jeremy never has cause to become similarly accustomed and desensitised to this shit.
Startled by Jeremy's reaction to the dragon, he carefully and quietly edges closer, keeping his body low against the ground to avoid casting a shadow or otherwise broadcasting his position to anything else that may be lurking overhead. With as much as he dislikes being touched himself, his first instinct has never been to reach out and offer physical comfort to others in these sorts of situations. Instead he sits as close as he's comfortable with, leaning down and speaking in a manner one would adopt when soothing a spooked animal.
"Hey, it's alright," he reassures, projecting a calmness he doesn't quite feel. "Dumb bastard didn't even know we're here. Lotta the monsters are like that — got all them nasty teeth and claws, but ain't too bright." It certainly isn't true of every muttation, considering some have seemed to possess fairly advanced intelligence and reasoning, but it's true enough in this instance. At least Jeremy's panic was of the quiet and still variety, and hadn't attracted any unwanted attention.
"Just seems unusual for a restaurant to have night guards," he says, sitting back up after a moment but reluctant to move away just yet. Besides, the perfect excuse to remain there is looking him right in the face. Small, round, whitish caps dot the grass around them, tucked so close to the ground as to be nearly invisible at first glance. "Why was it so dangerous? I mean, why were the robot critters attackin' you?" he wonders and plucks a couple of the mushrooms, eats one, and offers the other to Jeremy. Generally it's better to cook them first, but he knows this species doesn't contain toxins and a fire's too great of a risk at the moment. Maybe just before they leave the area he'll start one.