Direct follow-up to "The skirt is supposed to be this short." Season 5. Carol raises the stakes.
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"The hell you say?"
Carol's lips twitch, and she folds her arms beneath her breasts. When Daryl's gaze flickers not-so-discreetly to her cleavage, her grin stretches wide. "I think you heard me just fine." She takes a step closer to him, then another and another until they are toe to toe, and she delights in the scarlet flush of his cheeks, the flare of his nostrils, his blown pupils. "What about my shirt? You like it? Tara picked it out."
"Fuck, Woman."
"We could, Pookie. Skip the party. Stay here. Screw around. Just say the magic words."
"Take. It. Off."
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