The creature doesn't fit entirely within the clawfoot tub; arms and a large fin hanging over the sides and dripping water onto the floor. There is irritation written all over his face and even in scales that seem slightly risen. Above a showerhead drips and occasionally drizzles a stream down onto a damp crown. He's stuck, there. Kept, there. A pet grown too large for one cage and in need of another --- but, oh, it isn't that simple. Daryl sits, impatient. Anger threatening to boil the very water The Governor keeps him in. This is only temporary, sure --- a promise he knows the man will keep for the sake of keeping him hidden away, but he can't help but hate the circumstance as a whole.
It's almost suffocating, being kept in such a way. Being without his precious treasure. Being stuck.
When he hears footsteps he expects his visitor to be his captor but instead, he finds a rather mousey-looking man staring down at him. Humans. They always stared, at first. But Daryl -- Daryl starts right in with a glare.
"An' who're you supposed to be?" { mer!verse starter for @hisadvisor }