He paces. He can't sit still for a moment. He's tried, it's no use.
"Rick, you need to eat something."
He shakes his head at Carol.
"Sit down, at least. You look ready to keel over…"
"No."
He can't. Instead he goes out onto the veranda, to pace some more, scanning the darkening sky for nothing.
Daryl's out there, right now. His man, his lover. He, Abe and Sasha should be back by now. Where are they?
It's his, Rick's, fault. He should've never allowed it. Too late now.
Too late.
He balls his hands into fists, hisses at the pain from the cut to his palm. Daryl's out there, in danger, he's almost certain. And there's nothing Rick can do about it.