“Yeah!” Dante lights up at the prospect, turning himself towards the bullseye before reaching for the crossbow in Daryl’s arms. His eyes alight on it joyfully.
Richard, the man who handed him the crossbow, chuckles and steps aside to watch curiously.
Daryl kneels down and has Dante step over to him. “Your hands go here… move that finger.” Daryl helps adjust his initially all over the place grip, with the only difference being that Daryl has him lay a hand over Daryl’s own so that his finger is around the trigger. He doubts Dante is strong enough to pull it with one digit and hardly wants any accidents happening.
Leaving his hand there does not seem to bother his son, who peeks through the sights and shifts it a little. Dante is adorably careful and precise, rather than just grabbing and squeezing the trigger as soon as it is offered. He makes an effort and Daryl loves him for it.
“Press it when yer ready.” Daryl murmurs after he thinks Dante is almost done lining up his shot. Daryl pretends to let the kid line up the shot, himself but adjusts it slightly at the last second so it is a real good one.
When Dante’s little finger squeezes over his own rough one, Daryl presses the trigger and watches the bolt fly. It is only on the second ring of the circle, but the way Dante leaps would have had anyone thinking he hit a bullseye. The gleeful child turns and throws his arms around Daryl’s neck.
“Papa, you sawed?!” Dante asks eagerly.
“I saw.” Daryl affirms proudly. “Real good.”
“Again! Again!”
“You got a little fighter.” Someone remarks in amusement while passing by, chuckling at the cute weapon-wielding child.
He’s mah boy.
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