A variety of snacks line the card tables beneath the reception tent. It's the bar Daryl notices first, however. Maggie's put a sign up on the table – Two drinks per person – ages 17 and up only - and she has Eugene monitoring the table and pouring the drinks. Always careful of the bottom line, Daryl thinks.

The musicians begin playing, with one of the groomsmen on fiddle, Carter from the Hilltop on guitar, and Henry's crush on flute. The bride and groom dance first, and then Roland dances with his new daughter-in-law. After that, the floor is pretty much opened up.

"So…." Carol says, smiling and raising an eyebrow at him. "Are we going to – "

"My Daryl!" Judith cries as she jogs over to him and seizes him by his hand. Daryl looks back at Carol apologetically as the little girl drags him out to the dance floor.

Judith demands he "swing, swing, swing" her, and Daryl does, until her feet come off the floor and her legs almost smack Jerry and Nabila who are dancing together. Carol watches and laughs, but is soon swept up for a dance by Aaron and then for a second dance by Jerry when Nabila leaves the floor.

After two songs, Daryl's made Judith suitably dizzy, and she runs off careening toward her friend Olivia. Judith plows into the other girl, and they both fall down giggling. Dianne helps them up, and then the two girls run together to the dance floor, where they jump and giggle and shimmy and shake and do everything except keep time to the music.

Carol's busy talking with Enid, so Daryl gets himself a glass of whiskey at the bar from Eugene, who measures the pour precisely with his fingers. "I've been contemplating your dilemma concerning the swine byproduct," Eugene tells him as he hands the glass over. "Given the suboptimal statistical probability of successfully operating an engine on such an unpredictable biofuel without undesirable incidence and possible flammatory results, I believe a careful refining process is indispensable. And I may have developed some insights into the aforementioned process."

"Mhmhm. Good. Talk 'bout it when I get that bike built." Daryl looks over at Sharon, who is currently without a dance partner. "Ya oughtta ask Sharon to dance."

"I cannot forsake my post as a valued dispenser of liquid refreshments, but I will take your recommendation under advisement when I am relieved by my replacement in approximately one hour."

"One hour? How long's this damn reception gonna last?"

"In my admittedly limited experience, these sorts of festive occasions typically expand to consume the better part of the afternoon."

"Fuck," Daryl mutters. He takes a big sip of whiskey. Bigger than he meant to. He prowls to a remote corner of the tent from which he can watch people.

Carol has moved on from Enid and is now talking with Bertie. Judith and Olivia run for the lemonade bowl, and Stephanie seizes the ladle from her daughter and pours the drinks for her and Judith. Roland guides Maggie out onto the dance floor with a hand on the small of her back, and when they assume position, Maggie adjusts Roland's tie. Sharon's had some luck – she's leading a blind Father Gabriel to the dance floor. Tara drags a clearly reluctant Dianne to join the other couples.

After the music starts, Henry steals moonstruck glances at Elizabeth as the girl plays her flute, so Daryl makes his way over to where his former hunting apprentices are standing and sipping wine. "Hey, Andy, didn't ya say ya played the flute in yer high school orchestra?"

"Clarinet."

"Got one?"

"A clarinet?" Andy asks. "I've got that one we found in the mansion. Why?"

"Why don't ya join the band? Give that flute girl a rest?"

Andy and Lisa exchange looks. "Could be fun," Lisa tells her husband, "to have an audience of more than just me for a change."

Andy laughs. "Yeah, maybe I'll go grab it in a bit."

[*]

Rosita flicks off her rifle's safety and shoots a walker that's just about to sink its teeth into Khalid's ankle. The spent, hot brass shell casing flies back, smacks her neck, and slides down into her undershirt, settling between her cleavage and singing the skin.

Khalid scurries to a standing position and draws his long sword from the sheath on his back. With a two-handed grip, he swings the heavy sword and slashes the blade through the nearest creature's neck. The walker's head goes flying, lands with a plop in the water, and keeps gnashing.

The herd presses in. As Khalid decapitates another, Rosita shouts, "Hey! Fresh meat! Over here!" She runs along the top of the embankment, drawing most of the herd off of Khalid, who stabs and slashes three more before sheathing his long sword. He splashes into the creek again and attempts to reclaim his rapier from the fallen walker.

"Just fucking leave it!" Rosita shouts as part of the herd she's lured away begins to break off in his direction again.

Khalid abandons his rapier, turns, and runs. This time, the roots he grabs hold, and he makes it to the top, where he crawls away from the ledge and rolls, panting, onto his back as the walkers gather below and grasp for him.

Rosita helps him up. They look down at the walkers, which stretch their decaying arms up the embankment and claw desperately at the dirt with rotting fingers. The creatures can't climb.

"Come on." Rosita turns and jogs away. Khalid follows.

[*]

It's a long time before Carol gets her dance with Daryl, because she keeps getting distracted. She eats, drinks, and catches up with all the Hilltop women she hasn't seen in a month. The Hilltop men sweep her up for dances.

As Siddiq turns her around the floor, he chatters on about Beatrice. Apparently they're getting married in the spring at Oceanside.

"What's Maggie think of that?" Carol asks.

"Oh, I'm not leaving. Oceanside already has a former EMT and a former paramedic, but the Hilltop can't afford to lose me. Beatrice is moving here after the wedding. And she can fish, so Maggie's happy about that. We don't have many good fishermen."

Father Gabriel dances with Carol next and asks her, "What does Sharon look like?"

"Does it matter?" Carol asks.

"I'm just curious."

"She has dirty blonde hair," Carol tells him, "brown eyes, and a nice smile." And at the moment, Sharon's asking Roland to dance, but Carol doesn't tell him that.

Jesus claims her next. He tells her, "I can't get Aaron to dance with me in public, but even if I could...the women won't leave him alone. He's too nice to them. And it doesn't help that he looks like an L.L. Bean catalogue model."

Carol chuckles.

When the music stops temporarily, and some man with a clarinet takes Elizabeth's place with the band, Carol looks around for Daryl. She finds he's retreated to a distant corner by himself, where he's nursing the last drop of his second allotted whiskey. She walks over to him, hooks her finger into the pocket of his dark Wranglers, and asks, "You ready to dance, Pookie?"

"Kinda hoped you'd be danced out by now."

"Oh no. I'm just warming up," she assures him.

"Well don't 'spect much."

"I'm not."

He leaves his empty glass on a table before he follows her out to the floor. They stop somewhere near the far right edge of the dirt dance floor, between Liam, who is dancing with one of the Hilltop bridesmaids, and Enid, who is dancing with one of the Kingdom groomsmen. Carol makes sure to put plenty of couples between themselves and Henry, who is standing nervously with Elizabeth on the far left of the dance floor. The boy's right hand is on her hip, and the fingers of his left hand are laced through hers and holding her hand outward as though he thinks they're about to ballroom dance. Henry stands stiffly and waits for the music to start.

As the music starts, Daryl puts both hands on Carol's hips. She wraps her arms around his neck, and he begins to sway with her.

"Well, don't leave too much room for the Holy Spirit," she teases.

Daryl moves a hand from her hip to the small of her back and pushes her abruptly against him. His crotch slams against her abdomen. "Sorry," he mutters, and eases back a little.

Once he achieves a comfortable position, though, Daryl's a better slow dancer than she expects. He doesn't step on her feet once. His eyes are deliciously smoky in contrast to his shirt, which smells faintly of soap, as if he just had it washed last night.

"Where'd you learn to dance?" she asks as they sway.

"M' high school girl taught me."

"I can't picture you at a high school dance."

"'Cause I ain't never been to one. But we'd dance sometimes, outside her car, to music on the stereo. Usually got me laid."

"Ah…" She smiles. "Is that why you've agreed to dance with me?"

"Nah. Figured I'm gettin' laid sometime this weekend anyhow." He slides an arm across her waist and pulls her just a little closer. "Just know ya wanted me to. 'N I like makin' ya happy."

Carol's bottom lip quavers slightly. "Thank you," she whispers.

Daryl presses his forehead to hers. "Beautiful," he mutters as he sways with her. "You. Ya know."

Carol closes her eyes and lets him lead as music and laughter fill the tent.

[*]

When the gnashing of the herd grows faint, Rosita's jog slows to a fast walk, then a stroll, and finally she and Khalid plop down on the forest ground and lean back to rest against the thick trunk of a tree.

"Thank you," Khalid says between breaths. "That was a getting a bit tight."

"Sorry about the gunshot, but that thing was way too close to you."

"The Temple's far enough away now that they probably won't worry a single shot is of any concern to them. They must hear distant gunshots from time to time. Lone survivors."

"And it certainly doesn't look like they leave home to go investigating." Rosita slips her hand down into her cleavage.

Khalid watches her with a smile. "This is no time for self-pleasuring."

She rolls her eyes. "I got a shell casing stuck down there."

"Want me to forage for it?"

She pulls it out between two fingers and flings it at him. It bounces off his shoulder and lands on the forest floor. Over her undershirt, she rubs the spot between her breasts. "I got burned."

"I've got some burn cream back at the camp. I'll slowly rub it in for you later tonight."

"You don't quit, do you?"

"You know..." Khalid's eyes fall to her cleavage. "You probably shouldn't leave the top three buttons of your overshirt undone and wear such low-cut undershirts. I mean…it looks good, but how often do you get spent brass between those enticing mountains of tender beauty?"

"Not that often," she insists, "and that line sucks, by the way. Your poetry in Songs of the Soul is much better."

"You read my book?" Khalid asks.

"I told you I found it." She read it twice, but she doesn't tell him that. Rosita unclips her canteen from her belt, sips from it, and hands it over to him.

He takes a swig before handing it back. "I need to go back and get my rapier."

"No."

"It's my best weapon."

"You've got your long sword."

"It isn't special," he complains.

"You want to get us killed?"

"Tomorrow, I mean. When they've given up trying to climb that embankment and wandered off."

"That horn must draw walkers every time," Rosita says.

"I don't know how often they use it. This is the first I've heard it, and the other scout didn't mention it. But you're right. The walkers must pile up on that fence afterward."

"Maybe they have cleaners that stab the walker through the bars. Maybe they're cleaning the fence right now and wondering why they have so many fewer walkers than usual."

"I don't think they clean it," Khalid replies. "We haven't seen any walker bodies outside the fence."

"Then what do they do? Just go inside the Temple and wait for the walkers to wander away?"

"Most likely. That fence is iron. It probably holds. And there's plenty of animals in these woods to distract the walkers away eventually."

Rosita stands and clips her canteen on her belt. "Well, we obviously can't go back to that spot where we can see the grounds. Let's go back to camp, get some lunch, and watch the roof." She reaches out her hand to him and pulls him up.

[*]

Sunlight filters through the canvas of Daryl's tent. Voices, laughter, and music drift from the reception across the Hilltop. Carol is beautifully, gloriously naked atop him.

Daryl should dance with her more often, because after their second dance, she wanted to sneak away. He got to strip her down slowly, unbuttoning each and every one of those buttons of her blouse one by one by one…then slowly sliding the bra straps off her shoulder….popping the clasp open, and toying leisurely with her.

But things picked up from there.

"Oh God, Daryl!" Carol cries as she rides him now, her knees down on the mattress as he holds her steady by the hips, her pert tits bouncing with each desperate jerk of her hips. Licking his lips, he watches them move, watches her take her pleasure from him.

"Oh, God!" She jerks faster. "Oh… my….please….please…please….PLEASE!" Carol lets out a strangled cry, shudders like a storm front's just swept through, and collapses whimpering against him.

Daryl's been holding back, so when it's clear she's finished, he rolls her onto her back and, palms down on the mattress, continues to rock inside her, watching her breasts giggle with each thrust. It drives him wild, watching them move like that. His thrusts grow faster and harder and his breath grows raspier until he grunts out, "really….really…really…nice…..tiiiiits." The last word is a long, low groan, and then he crumples to the mattress, half on her, half off.

She giggles.

"'S so funny?" he mutters against her shoulder.

"Nothing. Just….it was an interesting exclamation at the end there."

He slides the rest of the way off her and lies sideways with an arm draped across her stomach. "Well…ya do. Have 'em."

She rolls until she's facing him, and he eyes are twinkling. "Daryl, that felt SO good."

"Don't it usually?"

"Yes. But that felt even…I don't know. I've never done it that way before. In that position."

"On top, ya mean?" he asks skeptically.

"I haven't. Plain vanilla, remember?"

Daryl tries not to show his surprise.

"I think maybe you hit the spot," she says. "There's a spot, right?"

"Thought I'd hit it before."

"Is there a spot beyond the spot then?" she asks.

He snorts. "Dunno 'bout that. But 'm glad it felt extra good." He kisses her, and they press their foreheads together.

After a few minutes like that, breathing slowly in and out, he rolls to his back and she settles her head on his chest. The distant fiddle music has picked up speed. "When's your rematch with Dianne?"

"Right after the reception I reckon. 'Fore sunset. 'Cause in the mornin', yer people leave. 'Cept you." He grins and hugs her. "Yer stayin' till Monday."

"Yep." She lifts her head to kiss his nose. "And we're hunting Sunday?"

He nods.

She settles her head on his shoulder now. "Did you see that Maggie danced with Roland?"

"Hell, he danced with everyone." The man never stopped getting requests from the Hilltop ladies, both single and married. They piled up on him like hungry mice on a piece of cheese. Even Sharon got her turn. Though Maggie was the only one he had to ask.

Daryl runs a fingertip down Carol's spine and then back up. "Henry got his dance with 'Lizabeth."

"He did."

"'Cause I got Andy to play the flute."

She smiles. "That was a Clarinet. But that was nice of you, to help Henry out. And while we were setting up he told me he's going to get more serious about his studies. What did you say to him?"

"Ya don't wanna know."

She kisses his bare shoulder, and says, "Thank you."

Outside the tent, there's a flourish of noise. The music is moving away from the reception tent and toward the gate. "I think it's the send-off!" Carol cries.

"Send-off? Hell's a send-off?"

Carol doesn't answer. She's too busy scrambling for her clothes.