Pointing the muzzle in a safe direction, her fingers laid off the trigger as she ejected the magazine; making sure the chamber was empty before briefly glancing up to spot Daryl wiping his bolts clean as Lori and Carol begin cooking supper.

Focusing back onto her task, she began decocking the striker, pulling the take down tab towards the rear of the frame before sliding freely to the front of the semi-automatic handgun.

Without much notice, Lori leaned against the counter, her arms followed across her chest; she titled her head to the side in curiously. "Ami, what-"

"Properly maintaining a handgun is an obvious step for any gun owner and it is absolutely necessary for optimal safety and effectiveness." She blurted out, not properly giving her the opportunity to finish her sentence.

The corners of Lori's mouth quirked upwards. "No, not that!"

Chin edging upwards, she chided. "Then, what?"

Daryl shaking his head in mere amusement, gazed reluctantly turned to her.

"Just wonderin'." Lori paused as she stepped forward so her hands rested on the kitchen table. "Before the world gone to shit, what were you doing? How was life before this?"

Eyes casting downwards, she clenched her teeth as she removed as much as she could of the thick, caked-on carbon buildup created by the friction of use and burning powder on the pieces of the handgun, which Lori and Daryl didn't failed to notice from the sudden question.

"Ami." Lori began, regretting she even asked. "If you don't what to talk about it, I under-"

She shook her head before shifting in her seat uncomfortably. "It's alright."

Flashing her a glance, Daryl peered at Lori with shoulders shrugged, unsure on what to do or say.

Wiping off the oil and unburnt power buildup, she began cleaning the inside of the magazine, ejector, guide rails, and the area around the chamber too before catching them off guard. "Tough."

"What?"

"My life before this." She paused, passing her a small glance. "It was tough."

"What happened?" Lori barely had the courage to ask.

Ami huffed, lower jaw jutting out in frustration. "Back then, I didn't have much... But this shitty guy I was datin' for a bit."

Daryl's hand clenched his shirt, almost trying to stop the stinging pain that raved through his heart. "What happened to him?"

Scoffing, her eyes drifted to him. "Who knows. Last I heard, he was still in jail."

"For what?"

Biting her lip in, the silence nearly threatened to seep back in before she gathered up to nerve to admit. "Beatin' me."

Eyes staring in disbelief, Daryl questioned; his voice dangerously calm. "Beatin' ya up? Why thy hell you stay with him?"

"Honestly? I didn't want to be alone." She mustered as Daryl passed her sympathetic glance.

Eyebrows furrowed, and his lips pressed together, Daryl sighed heavily before grabbing another bolt to clean off. "Idiot."

She lowered her voice just barely above whisper. "Daryl...?"

"You won't be 'lone anymore."

A small smile splayed a crossed her face, she murmured loud enough for him to hear. "Thank you."