[A/N: So this is up a little later than my usual schedule. Couldn't get into my fanfiction account for the last couple of days, some sort of server issue. But this is the longest chapter I've posted, so it's probably a fair trade off.]

It can't end like this.

Asha choked, lungs burning, breath hard and frantic. Elbow jammed hard against the throat of the deadhead pinning her to the ground, she tried to force back the teeth snapping in her face. Her right arm, with her spear gun in hand, was twisted beneath her where she had fallen awkwardly.

There were other walkers, she could hear them moving through the trees and her nose was full of the stink of them.

Her blood thumped in her ears. She had to get this one off her fast.

Teeth bared, she forced up through her shoulders against the walker's weight and dug hard with her arm—grimacing as her elbow sank into the soft flesh of its throat and then sobbing with relief as she as she jerked sharply to the left, rolling the walker away from her and spraying ragged chunks of its throat across the grass. Right arm finally free, she swung her spear through its skull and scrambled to her feet.

Too close.

Now for god's sake don't fall again.

She forced herself to a shambling run, the closest to a sprint she could manage, following a gentle curve around to the right which would, hopefully, let her outdistance the walkers and double back to Michonne.

They had been searching a little town, Michonne leading both their horses because, well, Asha didn't like horses and the horses seemed to return the feeling. One of the stupid beasts had got its foot caught in a tangle of wire and rubbish which had collected between some of the abandoned cars on the empty main street. Its panicked snorting and stomping had been enough to draw a hand full of the dead out of their semi comatose states nearby. Between the horses, Michonne had her hands full, so Asha had created a racket, yelling and banging on a bin lid, to draw as many away as possible, shouting to Michonne that she'd double back around to the south.

Not all of the dead had followed of course, but at least it gave Michonne a fighting chance of holding on to the horses.

Asha swerved through the trees, avoiding walkers where she could and taking down those she couldn't avoid as quickly as possible—thankfully managing to keep her feet this time.

Eventually the moans of the dead thinned out. She turned more sharply to her right, settling into a more sustainable jog, and eventually stumbling on to the little road they had entered the town by earlier that morning. It was late spring, or maybe early summer, and the black tarmac was radiating heat in the midday sun. She settled back to a walk, heart rate dropping. Eyes alert along the tree lined road, she strode back towards the town.

Within a few minutes, she was relieved to see Michonne heading towards her, riding one horse and with the reins of the second held loosely in her hand. Both animals seemed to be walking alright to Asha figured no permanent damage had been done to the stupid creature's leg.

'You alright?' Michonne asked as she reached her.

Asha shrugged. She skirted carefully along the side of the beast she had to ride. A nasty piece of work that the children at the prison had incongruously named Buttercup. She pulled a water bottle from the saddlebag and took a long swig.

'Oh, you know, nearly died, but what's new about that? Is it depressing how fucking normal all of this is becoming?'

Michonne's eyes tightened. 'What happened?'

'Tripped and fell, walker got closer then it should have.' She shook her head disgustedly. 'So stupid.'

She looked back down the road towards the town. It was one of those small rural towns in Georgia, that had shared a certain sense of sameness with the next even before the turn. Now they were all virtually indistinguishable, with a depressing uniformity born of shattered windows, refuse and silence where there should have been the sounds of people— of life.

They were about a day and a half on horseback from the prison, searching for the Governor. At Asha's best guess it had been about six or seven months since the assault on the prison. Daryl had been with them in the beginning, grimly determined to find his brother's killer—back when they'd actually had a trail to follow. But even before winter had set in properly, the trail had gone cold and they been forced to had to venture further and further from the prison for longer periods of time. Eventually the bitter weather had forced them to give up the search entirely for a while, and when the weather warmed, Daryl had refused to come back out with them. Said his time was better spent hunting and on supply runs than in a blind search for a dead man.

Asha missed him, more than she had expected to, and definitely more than she should.

The sensible thing would have been to follow Daryl's lead. You could hardly call what she and Michonne were doing 'tracking'. Without Daryl, and with the trail cold anyway, they were really operating on logic and intuition as they kept expanding the search in loops around the prison. It would be dumb luck as much as anything if they found any sign of the Governor.

Every time they returned to the prison, Asha expected Michonne to suggest that they let it go—but so far, within a couple of days of being back each time, Michonne had sought her out with a new plan of where they should check next. And whilst ever Michonne was willing to traipse the countryside, Asha was happy for the company. She'd be doing it anyway. She wanted to find the Governor, she believed with every part of her that they would be safer with him in the ground—but her primary motivation had always been searching for Nash.

Asha wiped her hand across the back of her mouth and screwed the lid back on the water bottle.

'What d'ya reckon?' she asked. 'Exhausted the possibilities of this backwater?'

'And then some.'

Michonne got down from her horse, pulled out a tattered map and spread it over her saddle.

'Still got a couple of hours of light left. Push on?'

Asha came over and looked at the faded lines on the map. She jabbed at a point with her forefinger.

'Yeah. I reckon we can make it to that farmhouse with the apple tree for the night. That'll put us in easy reach of the prison tomorrow.'

'Hmmm, easy… even with the way you ride.' The corner of Michonne's mouth lifted in a smirk.

Asha looked at their horses with distaste. 'Fucking horses. I hate horses. If you weren't so insistent on goin' cross country all the time we could take one of the cars.'

'Better to conserve the fuel.'

'What about conserving my ass? Feels like its been pounded into a pancake this last week.'

Still Asha couldn't help smiling. They had been away a good week this time, and it would be good to get back. Although they spent more time away from the prison than at it these days, knowing it was there and they could go back made all the difference. Asha was thoroughly looking forward to sleeping through the night and seeing the group. Daryl's face leapt into her mind and she quickly bit down on her bottom lip.

She flicked open the saddlebag, checking the crossbow bolts she'd found were still inside, and then breathed a sigh of relief as she poked them aside and saw her other gift for Daryl still tucked safely beneath them.

Michonne was watching her.

'What?'

'Nothing.' The dark skinned woman bit down on the corner of a smile.

'Damn right nothing,' Asha snapped.

'Yep, there is a whole lotta nothin' in the way you watch him when he's not looking.'

Asha felt her face heating.

'It's not like that,' she said, and then immediately regretted it. Dammit, why did she even feel the need to defend herself? There was nothing going on. Hell, if anything he'd been keeping his distance since that night she'd crawled under his blankets for warmth. She should have known that was going to freak his shit out. Not that she'd been thinking that then of course. At the time she'd just been cold.

She refused to be sorry about it though. Apart from anything else, she'd slept better in his arms then she had in ages.

And if she hadn't been able to get him out of her mind since then, well, that was her problem, especially since he'd never given her any indication he cared about her any more than he cared about any of their group.

Maybe it had just been a hell of a long time since she'd been laid.

She gave the buckle closing the saddle bag a hard yank. Then she arched both her brows at her companion. 'You think I didn't see you picking up that straight razor for Rick a couple of towns ago?'

Michonne grimaced slightly and coughed awkwardly, then opened her eyes wide and innocently at Asha. 'So what? You've seen him. His face is losing the war.'

'Uh huh. Yes it is.' She put a booted foot in her stirrup. 'But that hasn't made me, or anyone else, feel the need to bring him home a razor.'

Michonne laughed. 'Well, if Daryl's anything to go by, you like your men a little scruffy.'

Asha grinned and shrugged. Couldn't argue with that. She swung up into her saddle, wincing a little as she settled into the saddle. She hadn't been exaggerating about her ass.

'Oh I'm not judging,' she said still grinning. 'Rick's gonna carry that grief around with him forever unless you make him let it go.'

Michonne glared at her.

'Shut up.'

The dread locked woman swung up in to her own saddle. She looked back towards the town.

'Go back through town or cut around?'

'Around,' Asha grunted, accepting the obvious topic change. 'Place has been cleaned out.'

She shaded her eyes and looked around. There looked to be a treeline following a gully off to the left, which would keep them out of the woods she'd just stirred up the walkers in.

'Looks to be a creek down that way. Be good to top up the water supplies.'

'Lets do it.'

Michonne led them off the road towards the gully. There was a large sign on the side of the road reading 'Welcome to Fairburn.' The paintwork was faded and peeling in the corners.

'Hold up,' Asha called. She nudged Buttercup gently towards the sign and then carefully looped the reigns around the saddle bow as the horse began grazing on the overgrown grass around the base of the signpost.

She pulled a can of spray paint from her pack, the agitator rattling as she gave it a good shake. Buttercup looked up at the sudden 'kssst' of expelled paint, but quickly went back to munching on the grass. Asha took advantage of the having the whole sign to work with and plastered it with big bold markings. In bright pink paint, there was no way anyone who came through was going to miss it.

'So how does this code of yours work?' Michonne asked behind her.

She'd drawn a large cross, like a plus sign, and was filling in detail in each of the quadrants. She answered as she sprayed. 'One quadrant has the date—as much of a date as we can manage these days.' In the top left she'd sprayed a '2' followed by 'sp'. 'Second spring after the turn,' she explained. 'Diagonally opposite the date we put either a random number or a random direction—north south west etc. In the other two quadrants we put the direction we're going in one, and then opposite it, the distance to camp, if we have one, or a dash, if we're on the road and don't know how far we're going.'

'What's with the random number or direction?'

Asha shrugged. 'It's just meant to confuse anyone trying to figure out the code.'

'Clever,' Michonne said. 'A little over the top maybe, but clever.'

Asha laughed. 'Yeah, it's not exactly shorthand, but we were a bit paranoid when we came up with it.'

'After your sister?'

'Hmmm.' Asha was glad when Michonne didn't push for details. Michonne was good like that.

Asha leant back and surveyed her work. It was offensively pink. She felt a strong need to squint.

'Well, he's not going to miss that one.' Michonne said. 'It practically glows.'

Michonne was also good at not pointing out that they hadn't seen any sign of Nash in the months they'd been searching. But to be fair, Asha thought wryly, she didn't make a big point of the fact that they hadn't seen signs of the Governor in a long time either.

Just a pair of addicts enabling each other.

The sun was low in the afternoon sky when they arrived back at the prison the following day. A warm breeze rustled through the knee high grass as they rode the horses out of the woods.

The prison had changed since the first time Asha had seen it. The front gate had been replaced by two heavy metal doors scavenged from a garage. Hooked to a pulley system, they meet in a V pointing back down the main road and were surrounded by a ring of sharpened wooden stakes. Anyone trying to charge the gates with a vehicle would find the going a hell of a lot harder this time.

It warmed Asha's heart to see it. She only wished the rest of the fences were in as good a condition. As they crossed the bridge over the canal she could see the sag in the outer of the double line of fences, stretching away from the gate on either side. They hadn't been designed to stand up to constant pressure, and the never ending presence of the dead pushing against them was starting to tell—even though the upright poles of the fence had been reinforced with wooden logs braced behind them.

They nudged the horses to a trot as the gates started to open. Asha could make out Carl working the pulley system near the inside fence. She swore the boy had doubled in size since she'd first met him. His father's sheriff hat was pulled down over his eyes but he was grinning at both of them as they rode into the yard.

'You're back!'

'We're back.'

Asha swung down wearily from the saddle, wincing as she did so.

'Still haven't learnt to ride properly Asha,' Carl teased.

She nudged him in playfully in the shoulder. 'Can't be good at everything I guess. Where's ya dad?'

Carl waved generally in the direction of the slipshod shed that had sprung up in the middle of the yard. 'Feedin' the pigs I think.'

Asha nodded and headed in that direction.

'Ya bring me anything?' Carl asked Michonne excitedly behind her. Michonne laughed, and Asha heard her digging around in her bag. She knew the black woman went out of her way to bring home comics for the boy. That reminded her of her own finds on their last trip, and she felt a warm glow of anticipation start in her stomach.

Rick was covered to the knees in mud, and he had a smear of mud through the fairly impressive beard he was cultivating. He slipped around the pig sty, scooting the occasional half grown pig out of the way with a boot. Last winter, they'd managed to round up a handful of pigs—feral or escaped from a farm after the turn—and in spring one of the sows had had litter of piglets. Rick wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, looked up and saw Asha leaning against the fence of the sty.

'Hello farmer Rick.'

'Hello wandering woman.'

Rick's eyes darted around behind her. 'Michonne?'

'She's with Carl. How goes the growing of things?'

Rick smiled, a slow genuine smile that made his face glow as it spread across his face.

'It's good. Real good. Come see.'

Asha smiled in response.

He climbed out of the sty and headed across to the neat rows of vegetables planted out across the yard. He pointed proudly at the new plantings and growth since Asha had been there last, but Asha noticed his eyes went first to the gate to see for himself that Michonne was there.

It had taken her by surprise mid winter when she'd realised she didn't harbour any antagonism towards Rick. He'd stepped away from any control of the group after the addition of the Woodbury people, leaving things to their newly appointed council. And he'd taken up farming.

Asha found herself shaking her head wryly as she followed him across the yard, digging around in the saddle bag as she went. It had seemed strange at first, but now she had to admit it suited him. He was relaxed, he was friendly. He laughed. Asha genuinely hoped from him that he'd been able to—if not put his demons to rest—at least get them somewhere he could manage them. Now that he wasn't holding the groups' lives in his hand, she found her wariness around him had been replaced with an easy camaraderie.

'Here,' she said, when he finally paused. She held out her hand with several packets of seed in them, vegetables for the most part, but a handful of herbs as well. Rick took them greedily. 'Went through a hardware store whilst we out.' She shrugged. 'Dunno if they're still any good, but worth a try right?'

Rick was shuffling quickly through the packets.

'Definitely.' He held out a packet grinning, 'Pumpkin, damn, we haven't had any of this til now.'

Asha found herself grinning back. 'No problem. Is Daryl around?' she asked casually.

The corner of Rick's mouth quirked and he nodded.

'Got back from a hunt a few days ago—bought a dear back the clever bastard. Been keepin' us going most of the week.' The quirk at the corner of Rick's mouth turned into a grin. 'Hasn't gone back out again yet. Judging from the way he's been snapping everyone's head off the last couple of days, I'd say he's been waiting for you to get back.'

Asha ignored the heat spreading up her neck—hoping to god it wasn't noticeable.

'Yeah. He'll be happy he doesn't have to come out lookin' for us.'

'Carol! Hey!'

Asha caught up to the silvery haired woman as she laboured under a large bucket of water headed towards cell block C.

'Asha!' Carol turned with a warm smile, put down the bucket and greeted her with a hug. 'You're back,' she leant back to look her in the eye. 'In one piece, too.'

'Yep.' She matched Carol's smile. In the six or so months she'd gotten to know Carol she'd developed a lot of respect for the woman. She was resourceful, tough—and she worked so hard for the people in the prison. Asha respected that.

They could almost be friends...

'How's it been here?'

'Oh yeah, holding down the fort. Got a few more new ones in the last week, a father and his son.' Carol smiled. 'Still amazes me that there's people surviving on their own out there.'

Asha squeezed her arm as she stepped away from her. 'We can't be the only ones. What were their answers?'

Carol counted them off on her fingers. One. 'Who the hell keeps count these days.' Two. 'Three..for the father, one for the son.' Three. 'Two of them attacked them, and then, at some other time, they found the other two trying to steal from them and had to fight for what was theirs.'

Asha three questions were a testing ground for new arrivals—how many walkers have you killed, how many people have you killed, and—most importantly—why?

It was always a variation on the same answers though—everyone had killed walkers, and almost everyone had killed people—those who had been out there on their own certainly had, and each group out there had at least one person who'd killed someone. Always for some version of self defence, of course.

Asha didn't rate the three questions as a gateway. But it was what the Council had come up with, and Council business was Council business as far as Asha was concerned.

To her knowledge, she was the only person who had admitted to hunting anyone down with the purpose of killing them.

Carol shrugged in response. 'I know you'd like us to be harsher on new arrivals Asha, but the Council is happy how this is working out.'

Asha picked up the bucket and started toward the cell block. 'I know Carol,' whatever you guys think is fine by me.'

Carol was on the Council after all.

'Hey, you seen Daryl?' Carol missed a step and Asha watched out of the corner of her eye as Carol's face closed over.

'Hmmm, he's around here somewhere. Reckon he's due to go out on another hunt soon.'

Carol reached out and took the bucket back from Asha. 'I'll see you around.'

Asha watched her walk into the cell block.

They could almost be friends if it wasn't for that.

Asha looked across the group of people gathered in the prison courtyard. She had a good view from where she sat cross legged on the catwalk. There must have been fifty odd people—when the hell had they let so many in? Most of them were still strangers to her, given the time she spent away from the prison these days. They milled around in the settling evening light. A couple of hurricane lamps had been lit, but edging into summer the twilight seemed to be endless and they were barely needed.

The smell of grilled deer wafted up on the warm air and Asha's mouth watered. Her eye's tracked across the group, searching for a rangy build and a head of shaggy dark hair. Beth was there, humming to herself as she bounced Judith on her hip, Rick wiggling his fingers in his daughter's face and smiling as she giggled. Tyrese and Sasha were handing out plates of food, whilst Carol stirred the huge pot on the grill—finding several full tanks of gas last fall had been a real godsend. Michonne, Carl and Hershel were sitting at one of the tables, laughing over one of the comics Michonne had brought back.

It was a matter of convenience that they all ate together, but Asha couldn't help but be reminded of the camping trips she'd taken as a child—where everyone would gather at the end of the day to use the communal fire pit or grill and share a drink. She smiled at the feeling of warmth spreading through her chest at seeing them together. It wasn't quite enough to blot out the hollow feeling at Nash's absence, or even the twinge of sadness she felt when she pictured Merle trying to awkwardly fit into the scene below, but it was something.

Her eyes kept moving, but even as she looked for him, she knew he wouldn't be down there. Too many people. She smiled to herself. He might feed them and protect them, but he wouldn't hang around to socialise.

There was a faint sound to her left. As if her thoughts as summoned him he emerged slowly from the open doorway at the end of the walk. Eyes hooded in the half light, and arms bare—as always—in his leather vest, he had a plate of food in each hand.

Asha tried to ignore her quickening pulse.

He didn't say anything as he came towards her on silent feet, just folded himself down cross legged next to her—close but not touching—and handed her a plate. He held her eyes for a second as he handed it over—they were unreadable, but she drank in their blueness in the fading light.

They ate in silence for a moment.

'This is good,' Asha said appreciatively after a minute. It was. Best she'd had in a long time.

She leant sideways a little and nudged gently him with a shoulder. 'Got you to thank for it of course.'

Daryl grunted. He ate a few more mouthfuls.

'Ya late. Only supposed to be gone a week, been nine days.'

Asha frowned. 'Yeah, hit a bit of weather that slowed us down, and possibly we over estimated how quick we'd be on horseback.'

'How quick you'd be ya mean. Michonne can ride.'

'Bite your tongue. If I ever learnt to ride properly this community would need to find a new running joke to keep them entertained.'

He nodded. 'That's true. Ya oughta see Zach's impression of ya falling sideways out of the saddle when ya were first learning. His eyes sparkled with mirth. 'We're all still tryin' to figure out how ya got Buttercup to throw ya off in the first place, she's the most placid docile mare I've ever seen.'

'Ha,' she said flatly. 'Ha ha.' Bloody Buttercup was a vicious brute and had nearly trampled her when that had happened. 'It wasn't that funny.'

His mouth quirked. 'It was pretty funny. And there ain't no TV anymore.'

He polished off the contents of his plate. Then he picked up the trail of their earlier line of conversation. 'Was starting to think that this time I'd actually have to come lookin' for ya.'

He would have. She knew it—just like her and Michonne would go looking for him or any of the others if they didn't come back from a run.

'You know the rule,' she said gently. 'If we plan on being gone a week, you don't even start to worry till we've been gone ten days.'

He grunted noncommitally.

She knew. The theory and the practicality were different things a lot of the time.

She finished her meal, savouring the pieces of meat and then picking up her plate and licking it to capture all the juices.

Daryl looked at her askance out of the corner of his eye, and she burst into laughter. 'What? You got a problem with my table manners?'

'Ain't I supposed to be the redneck and you've got the fancy education?'

Asha chuckled. 'Before the world ended maybe. Now you're the man that feeds us, and I am damn hungry.'

She licked the plate again for good measure, grinned at him, and then put the plate down. Daryl chewed his bottom lip at her for a moment, eyes narrowed, then dragged his tongue across his own plate to clean it before putting it down.

'There ya go!' Asha approved.

They were both finished, but Daryl didn't show any signs of moving, and Asha was content to sit while he did. They sat there in silence watching the darkness creep in.

'Ya hangin' around for a few days this time?' he said eventually.

'Think so.'

'Good. Don't make plans tomorrow.'

Asha looked at him curiously.

'Got somethin' to show ya.'

'In here or out there?'

'Out there. Might take all day.'

'Jeeze Daryl. I was really looking forward to not spending all day on the road.'

'Be worth it.'

'Do I have to ride that bloody horse?'

He grinned. 'What, Buttercup? What's she ever done to you.'

'She pounded my ass to bits all week.'

'She'd stop doing that if ya learnt to ride properly.'

'Bite me.'

They sat in companionable silence for a moment.

'We're not taking the horses right?'

'Nah, reckon poor Buttercup could do with a break after carrying you around all week. We'll take the bike.'

'Better.'

Much better. Her stomach fluttered as an image of being wrapped around Daryl's back leapt into her mind.

'It'll probably turn into a walker fest the noise that thing makes.'

'Do ya wanna ride the damn horses?'

'Hell no.'

'Haven't seen a lot around where we'll be headed. Reckon we can handle it.'

'At this point I'll take the walkers over the horse anyway. Where we going?'

'Surprise.'

Asha leant back. His profile was etched in the half light, eyes fixed on the courtyard, his chin jutting out slightly as he chewed his bottom lip. She arched an eyebrow at him.

'Surprise?'

Since when did Daryl Dixon plan surprises?

'Hmmm.' For an instant there was a smile tugging his lips, before he stomped on it with a serious frown. 'Just bring your spears.'

She nodded. Like she ever went out without them.

'Hey,' she said, leaning over and pulling out the plastic bag she'd been half sitting on. 'Found ya something whilst we were out.'

Daryl's eyes flashed to her as she passed it over. Asha watched him intently as he unwrapped the plastic carefully and pulled out several unopened packets of crossbow bolts. A slow smile spread across his face as he fingered them.

'They ok?' Asha asked, feeling surprisingly anxious. 'Found 'em down the back of a cabinet in a hunting store. Place was pretty much cleaned out, but these days it always pays to look under and behind stuff—amazing how much stuff people missed in the first rush for weapons.'

Daryl nodded, still shuffling through the packs of bolts.

'I didn't know which sort you needed,' Asha said, leaning over him to touch the two different types in his hand. 'So I grabbed everything I could.'

'Always grab everything,' he said. He held out one of the packs, with red fletching on the bolts. 'These are perfect,' then he held out the other type. 'These, not so much. But I can break em apart and repoint and re fletch my other bolts.' He fixed her with an intense look. 'Ya did good.'

Asha shocked herself by blushing a little at the praise. 'Well, gotta keep you in bolts so you can keep us in food right?'

'Pffft.' Daryl blew her off.

Asha swallowed hard and then reached under her leg for her other gift, feeling the soft leather between her fingers. She pressed her lips together nervously and silently held out the black leather gloves to him—watching from the corner of her eye as he put down the bolts and tentatively took them, holding them loosely in his hands as though unsure what to do with them.

Why did it matter so much whether he liked them?

'You remember when we went to Douglasville? she asked.

He nodded.

'Your hands froze. I distinctly remember your fingers going white and then blue, and then pretty much refusing to bend.'

He grimaced without looking away from the gloves.

She reached over and brushed the gloves in his hands, smiling wryly. 'This way, next time some irritating person pesters you into a long distance ride in the cold, that won't happen.'

He snorted softly. 'Ain't no-one pestering me into any more rides.'

But he smiled—a tiny quirk of his lips—and shifted one glove against the palm of his hand to measure the size.

It was enough.

Asha felt the tightness in her chest relax. She smiled and leant back on her hands. 'Well, now that I can ride your bike, at least you won't have to worry about it being me.'

He grunted. 'Yeah well, just cause ya know how t' ride it don't mean I'm letting ya near it.'

'Guess i'll just have to be sneaky about it then.'

He growled at her, eyes narrowed behind the dark hair falling across his face, and she laughed at the expression on his face, her laugh growing as his frown deepened.

'I missed you,' she said smiling—without thinking.

'Stop,' Daryl said, still looking at the gloves in his hands.

Asha rolled her eyes.

He pushed himself to his feet, and held out a hand. She took it, enjoying the feel of his rough palm in hers and the strength in his arm as he pulled her to her feet. For a second they stood there, hands held and close together, before Daryl let her go—and Asha found she could breath again.

She pushed her empty plate into his hand. 'Can you take this back from me?'

His brow furrowed for an instant, but he took it.

'Gotta go see your brother,' she said, answering his unasked question.

Daryl's face was suddenly very carefully blank, but he nodded. 'See ya in the mornin' then.'