Call her stupid, but Sinclaire had just realized what winter meant. Not just the fact that it was really too cold to do anything or that the hunting was practically done, which put Daryl in such a bad mood that people avoided him nearly as religiously as they avoided Merle, but that her birthday was in August. It was obviously well past August. That only meant one thing. She was thirty years old. She was unreasonably depressed about it and she couldn't explain it to anyone. Complaining about a birthday when there were so few people left alive was about as selfish as it got.

So she'd done what she had always done when she got sad. She took a long hot bath. And damn, if it hadn't been more work than ever before. So many buckets of water! But it was nice to sink into once she'd gotten the temperature right.

Sinclaire sort of smiled to herself when she remembered thanking Daryl for finally hooking up the plumbing and his snarl of, "What the hell else am I gonna do? Fuckin' winter."

"My little brother's come down with a case of cabin fever," Merle had commented sagely. "Ya can't take what he says personally. He's outta his head."

"Yeah fuck you too," Daryl had answered before stomping off in the direction of the woods.

Maybe he was irritated that Carrie had finally given up on him. Nate had brought them back several times. Sometimes he even brought food. Sinclaire couldn't believe what a nice guy he was.

Carrie was nice too. And she liked Tiffany even if she found her incomprehensible. Tiffany had a thing for Merle. A thing. For Merle.

Since she was reminiscing, Sinclaire decided to go full force. The conversation she'd had with the two of them last week should cheer her up just to think about anyway.

Carrie had been sitting near the river so she and Tiffany had joined her.

"I saw you talking to Glenn earlier," Sinclaire said, forced again into the awkward task of trying to perform love connections.

Carrie nodded and said, "Well…I do like him a lot and he's closer to my age. He's pretty funny too! But I guess you know that."

"Giving up on Daryl was probably smart," Tiffany said. "I'm not really sure he swings your way."

Sinclaire choked on a laugh and the other two looked at her.

"Oh he does," she said. "It's just that he, uh, he's…" socially awkward and not interested in you seemed like a mean way to end the sentence, so she let it trail off.

"Is he with you?" Carrie asked, misinterpreting Sinclaire totally.

"What?"

"Because if he is," Carrie leaned close. "Is he as good in bed as I think he'd be?"

Sinclaire blushed. She actually blushed. Tiffany laughed.

"Are we rating them now?" she asked Carrie.

"Well, aren't you tired of rating Nate? Not that there isn't a lot to rate," she said with a wriggle of her eyebrows.

"Carrie caught him changing clothes a few weeks ago," Tiff explained for Sinclaire's benefit. "Let's just say there was just cause for excitement."

Carrie was still watching Sinclaire closely. Since she knew Daryl wanted to give the younger woman no cause for encouragement she was briefly tempted to say awful things. But Daryl had always been nice so she only did her best to look coy as she said, "A lady never discusses such things."

'Mmm too good to talk about," Carrie interpreted. "I knew he'd be awesome. His arms! And his voice and his eyes and his body and…"

"And I thought you were into Glenn," Tiff interrupted.

"I am," Carrie said unabashedly. "But that doesn't mean I can't dream. Anyway, we were rating men here."

"Okay," Tiffany said with a smile as she turned toward the bar. "Let's start with Shane."

"Shane?" Sinclaire asked in surprise.

"Yeah. If ever a man walked with swagger…" Tiff said. "And he's got a certain intensity."

'I think he's unhinged," Sinclaire said. "That's not my idea of sexy."

"Ah, so you prefer the stable type? And you're with Daryl?"

"That's a different sort of…and I never said I was with Daryl. We're just…good friends." Since she was desperate to turn the conversation Sinclaire said, "You really think Shane is attractive?"

"Sure," Carrie said. "I agree with Tiff. All that intensity makes a girl feel shivery. You can't help but think he's use those cuffs." She finished the sentence with a giggle.

Sinclaire felt shivery at the thought all right, but probably not in the way Carrie did. She'd have to pass the idea on to Glenn though, just to watch him blush.

"What about Rick?" she asked out of morbid curiosity.

"Too married," Tiff dismissed.

"But he's so nice," Carrie said. "And understanding. I feel like I could tell him anything and he'd know exactly where I was coming from."

"It's a really good quality for a leader to have," Sinclaire said, relived it wasn't sexual.

"Yeah, but who wants that in a man?" Tiff asked. "I want a guy I can fight with."

"Merle Dixon is perfect for you," Sinclaire said dryly.

Tiff gave her a smile and said, "I thought that you two had a thing when I first met him."

"We have a friendship."

"Like you and Daryl have a friendship?" Carrie asked.

"No," Sinclaire found herself flustered again. She wasn't really good at this type of girl talk. "Merle is the first human person I met when the whole thing got started. We kind of bonded…but we never…um…"

"You can say the word sex in front of us," Carrie said. "I'm twenty years old and Tiff was a stripper."

Now that was a surprise. But it explained Merle's attraction even more. Tiffany was looking at Sinclaire, waiting to gauge her reaction. Sinclaire didn't give one.

"So we're not rating Dale?" she asked instead.

Carrie laughed and said, "I bet he's wild!"

Tiffany chuckled too and said, "It's always the ones you don't expect."

Sinclaire felt like she'd done well. She hadn't had to try to stumble through an explanation of what it was like to go to bed with Daryl, which really would have made him look like a terrible lover. Not strictly a lie but certainly unproven. And she'd turned the conversation from awkward to funny. Not bad for a day's work.

"Ya drown out there?" Merle bellowed through the door.

"I'm relaxing!" she yelled back. "You're ruining it!"

"Relaxin' from what? Ya ain't done shit all day!"

"Suck it Dixon!"

She heard him laugh, but she knew he'd never admit it.

"At this point, if I could I would," was all he said.

"Ew!"

"Can't take the heat stay outta the kitchen Yank."

She shampooed her hair and took a deep breath to steel herself to duck under and rinse. She was getting somewhat better about it but not much. She came up with a splash.

"Shit!"

She gasped and inhaled some of the water still dripping from her face at the sound of Daryl's voice. Apparently he was back from wherever he went. If she'd been under the water the porch would have looked deserted. She coughed, covering her chest with one arm and her mouth with the other.

"I'm…I didn't…"

"Go," she choked out. "Just go inside!"

"I…yeah. Yeah. Okay. I'm…I…"

The door opened behind him and Merle stuck his head out.

"Well, well," he drawled. "Ya find somethin' to occupy yer time little brother?"

He didn't miss the fact that even though Daryl was doing what Sinclaire asked, he was doing it slowly and with his eyes locked on her. Thank God that he had some red-blooded male interests. He could see the appeal, other than the fact that she was coughing her head off, Sinclaire didn't look bad. Her chest was a little too flat for Merle's liking, but the water trickling down her lean, muscular body added plenty of visual interest.

"What the hell are you still out here for?" she demanded.

Daryl's face went beet red and he pushed past Merle and into the bar. Merle wriggled his eyebrows at her and followed Daryl. Sinclaire covered her face with both hands, torn between the urge to cry and, oddly, the urge to laugh.

"Hey," Merle said catching up with Daryl in the hallway. "How'd that happen?"

"She musta been under the water," Daryl said. "I wasn't…I didn't do it on purpose. She popped up, scared the hell outta me and then started yellin'!"

"And ya made good and damn sure to get an eyeful 'fore ya did what she said," Merle pointed out.

"No! Yeah…but not…I wasn't…"

"Yer finally growin' up," Merle cut in placing his left hand over his heart. "I'm just so proud."

"Fuck you."

"She's got kinda a small rack," Merle mused. "But fer starters it won't be too bad."

"What the hell?"

"Less to have to concentrate on," Merle explained. "Man's only got two hands. It'll be easier fer ya both."

"Fuck you Merle Dixon!"

That wasn't Daryl; that was Sinclaire. The words were followed by a kick to the back of Merle's knee and, even though she was barefoot, it staggered him. Three quick punches to his arm followed and then she turned and stomped into their bedroom.

"It was a compliment!" he called after her. "Women," he continued with a sigh to Daryl.

Daryl punched him twice in the other arm and stomped off to the room next door.

"And brothers," Merle continued to no one. "What's the world comin' to?"