"OK, keep looking at my finger… right… up… alright, I think we're done. I don't see anything."

Carol sighed as Denise turned off her small flashlight. Her eyes were dry from staying open while said flashlight was shined into them, and she blinked a few times, trying to clear them.

"So she's OK?" Daryl asked from the corner of the room, where he'd sat as patiently as possible while Denise gave as thorough an eye examination as she could.

"Yeah. I mean, I didn't see any signs of infection or anything. It's probably just naturally developing… shortsightedness," the younger woman concluded, clearly out of her element.

"But her eyes ain't gonna fall out or anything, right?" Daryl joked, crossing the room to stand at Carol's shoulder. She rolled her definitely-not-falling-out eyes, unamused by his attempt to lighten the mood.

Denise let out a nervous laugh, shaking her head. "No, I think I'm at least qualified enough to promise that. But you probably want to try glasses."

"Great, just write me a prescription and I'll head to the store," Carol muttered testily. Daryl snorted, but reached up to rub her shoulder comfortingly.

The other woman laughed nervously again. "Actually, we have a box of different prescription glasses. The run team raided a store for them about a year ago. Hopefully a pair of them will work for you?"

"She'll try 'em," Daryl answered quickly, preventing Carol from snarking at the young doctor again.

As Denise left to go get the glasses, Carol sighed again, glaring at the floor in annoyance.

"Ain't a big deal," Daryl murmured, still rubbing at her shoulder. "The glasses'll fix it."

Carol hummed noncommittally in response, glaring at the floor some more.

"What is it?"

She sighed in response, finally glancing up at him. "It's nothing. It's silly."

"Try me."

She snorted, shaking her head. "OK, fine. It's that… well, I've never had an eye problem in my whole life. All my siblings had glasses since we were kids, and I guess… I was kind of weirdly proud of the fact that I didn't? Or smug, I guess, would be the better word. It's silly, I told you. It's just a knee-jerk reaction stemming from five-year-old me."

Looking up at him, she pursed her lips at his expression- he was clearly fighting a grin.

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything. I know it's stupid! It's… it's stupid, whatever, just let me have a moment of pettiness."

"No, no, I'm not judging you. I'm just not used to you having… 'moments of pettiness,'" Daryl assured her, voice shaking with suppressed laughter. "It's kinda cute."

Carol huffed, opening her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Denise's return. The younger woman backed through the door, carrying a large cardboard box with some difficulty. Daryl immediately moved to help her heave it onto the table.

"OK," the doctor said, breathing a little heavy from exertion. "So you have more selection than I thought you would. I haven't been through this box yet, so I'm not sure how it's organized…" she trailed off, opening the lid to reveal an excessive amount of eyeglasses, separated by labeled plastic bags.

Rifling through the box a bit, Denise nodded to herself. "OK, I think the weaker prescriptions are more at the top. You'll probably need one of those… though beyond that, I'm not really sure where you should start."

Carol waved her off. "It's fine, I'll trial and error it." The doctor left them to it, and Carol went through the box, eventually settling on a pair with some harmless-looking black frames.

"Well?" Daryl asked, watching her expectantly as she put them on and looked around.

"Not bad. Maybe these'll work."

She got up out of her seat, crossing to a mirror on the wall. The effect wasn't too bad. About what she had expected. She turned to Daryl to gauge his reaction, but he seemed to be fighting a grin again, and Carol raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"S'nothing. Just…" he stared at her. "The glasses are kinda cute, too."