#c. danny

Eddie can’t decide how he feels about Danny.  To be fair, they haven’t actually spoken.  There’s just something about the premeditated nature of his power and his crimes that settles ill and heavy in Eddie’s gut.  He doesn’t really ... fit in with them, does he ?  Eddie, that is.  He doesn’t LIKE what he does.  He doesn’t derive any pleasure from the knowledge of what he’s done -- there’s no satisfaction found.  

He doesn’t even remember most of it.  

What he does remember makes him sick. 

But his mother raised him with manners and he isn’t going to ignore someone just because he disagrees with them.  Besides, the survivors aren’t exactly the most willing to spend time with him. ( Not that Eddie blames them. ) 

Aliza had came across a lot of people in her life, but here in Salem’s point it was hard to find something so pure an innocent, aside from her child. Danny, he was a friends of hers, a human, and being around him only made her miss what it was like to be one, to not live the life she had, or know the things she knew. But as far as she knew, he didn’t know of the things you read in stories and saw on television was real. Finding herself at his place, the blonde climbed into his bed as he laid here, blew her breathe at him in attempts to wake him up. “Dan-dan....” she whispered.

@danny-boy-becker​

Idling into an open spot outside The Dive, Sawyer killed the engine on his Softail and climbed down, stashing his helmet on one of his mirrors. Once inside the bar, it didn’t take him long to eyeball a vacant barstool and make his way over to it. Settling down onto it with a heavy sigh, the biker rested his elbows against the bartop and motioned for the bartender. “Whiskey, thanks,” he muttered, steepling his hands together over his nose and mouth so that he could smother the vile curse that leapt from the tip of his tongue. After a rough shift at the garage and yet another bullshit meeting with his parole officer, Sawyer hadn’t been able to speed to the bar fast enough, eager to wash away all the annoyances of the day. Dropping his hands back to the counter once his drink arrived, he happened to glance to the side and caught a familiar face in his periphery. Sawyer squinted, unsure at first that he was really seeing who he thought he was. Danny Becker. While he couldn’t claim to know the younger man all that well, he knew enough to be able to hold a conversation with him— even if Sawyer’s well known aversion to law enforcement made him somewhat wary to do so. Affiliated with the club or not, old habits died hard. Still, the biker pushed his characteristic smirk into place and twisted towards the other man, “Last time I saw you, ya still had the trainin’ wheels on,” Sawyer began, lifting his brows in surprise, “Now you’re a deputy?” Chuckling softly, Sawyer shook his head and let out a low whistle, “I still can’t believe they actually gave your ass a badge and a gun,” he teased, flashing Danny another wide grin.