"You look like hell."

As Andrea bluntly pointed out, Milton's eyes are bloodshot. It's breakfast, and Merle has still yet to come back. The others are milling about as if nothing is wrong; it hits him again that he's the closest thing, other than the man's own kin, to a friend that he has. When he explains what's bothering him to the woman sharing the table with him, she looks relieved, having thought that Merle had been harassing him badly. He's slightly offended by it, to his own surprise. He knows that he should just appreciate that she cares. He reasons that his irritation is because he's a grown man, he should be able to defend himself. (Even though he knows that Andrea is more intimidating than him.)

"I'm serious, Andrea. It's been hours. He could be-" He lowers his voice as a small group of people walk pass him, not wanting to startle the children. "He could be dead somewhere. I'm having trouble understanding this. Daryl doesn't even seem bothered by it."

She shrugs at him and leans back in her seat. "Exactly." She gestures with her hand to where the younger Dixon is playing with Judith. "Daryl's a great guy, Milton. If he thought that something was wrong with his brother, he'd be out there looking for him. Trust me. You don't know him that well yet, but you'll see."

Her relaxed state is doing the opposite of what she's trying to achieve; it just puts him more on edge.

"But anything can happen any second of the day. A second. That's all it takes to-" Or he stops himself, another possibility escaping his mouth, something he considers every time Merle leaves the safety of the prison. "Or what if Philip-"

This clearly alarms her. She sits up, her elbows on the table. "Milton," Her voice is louder than she meant for it to be. "Philip's gone, alright? We searched for weeks. There was nothing. Nothing."

Milton glances once more at Daryl.

"I hope you're right, Andrea."

It's clear by their eyes that neither are completely convinced.

By the middle of the day, Milton is getting on Andrea's nerves. She eventually leaves him, saying that her and Michonne had something (he wasn't really paying attention to what) planned. Left with nothing but his own thoughts, he decides to do something about them: he goes to Rick.

"I wouldn't worry about Merle if I were you. I've already asked Daryl what he thinks about it. He'll come back on his own eventually."

The general consensus seems to be that Merle got bored and went looking for trouble or alcohol. Milton still isn't satisfied though.

"Why're you so interested though? I thought you two hated each other."

Milton hesitates for a second, thinking about the best way to explain that they had never really hated each other to begin with. "Well, I-" He decides to go a simpler route instead. "Since you've had him give me lessons in shooting, we've been-"

"Whoa," Rick shifts Judith to his other knee. "Lessons in shooting? I didn't tell him to do that."

Add confusion to Milton's growing list of emotions towards Merle Dixon.

By night time, Milton feels as if he's going out of his mind with anxiety. To think that he would feel so much worry in regards of someone that has caused him so much unhappiness, it's baffling. He puts it off as something to think about later, after Merle has come home. For now, he's more focused on going over the maps of the area, looking for any area the scouting groups might have missed while they were looking for the Governor. His search is an intensive one, and it keeps him up for most of the night.

Perhaps his tiredness has more to do with it than his actual stress, but by the next morning, he's irritable to anyone who crosses his path. He even snaps at Rick; a few of the other group members around them at the time eye their leader as if they're waiting for him to blow up. It's Hershel that gets him to nap though, reprimanding him into shame. The old man has a way with guilting someone's concious.

He gets some rest but it's fitful. By the time he wakes back up, it's already dinner. He sits at his usual table with Andrea, forgetting to eat and half-way listening to Patrick talk about some old TV show, watching the doors. The person he's waiting for doesn't come through them.

By day seven, people have started asking him if he's stick with something. Others are looking at him like he's crazy. Those who know what's going on with him, why he walks the gates most of his days, don't know what to say to him.

It's when he overhears a conversation between Rick and Daryl that he decides to take affirmative action.

"I don't know, man. He used to go out three or four days at a time, so I didn't think nothin' of it at first, but now I'm startin' to get worried. If he's not back by tomorrow, I'm gonna go out and look for him at some of his old haunts, maybe take a few guys with me."

Rick's nodding, his hand on Daryl's arm as a way to attempt curbing his worry over his brother. Neither of the men notice Milton until he speaks.

"I want to go with you."

Milton can tell by Daryl's expression, his hesitance, that the hunter isn't exactly excited about the idea. He starts to say so, starts to refuse, but Rick agrees to it, saying that it might do him some good to get out for a while. Milton isn't sure how it could do anyone any good to be out there with the walkers, but in this instance, he thinks that Rick might be right.

"Fine, man. But I'm not watching you. When you're out there, you've gotta take care of yourself."

From everything that Milton's heard about Daryl, he isn't completely sure the bow man means it. All the same, he's full of fear.