So this chapter is kind of boring, I'm afraid... but things will be moving along in the next one.

Please stick with me! Thanks for reading!

Chapter 5 - Compartmentalizing

Tahlia walked slowly back from her yoga class in the pallid morning light, the breeze feathering her sweat-cooled skin.

This was one of her favorite times of the week – early Sunday in the relative quiet before most people ventured outside, before the city began heaving with life. This was also usually the time of the week when she felt the most clear-headed, when the stress and bustle and whir of life lifted, her mind emptied, and she really relaxed, just for a little while.

Except this morning, her mind wasn't empty at all, it was thrumming with him, the end of last night on unintentional replay. Certainly, when she was cuddled up in her bed in the murky midnight with his shirt rubbing against her skin and the smell of him all around and her body still flaming in every place that had come into contact with his, she had felt intoxicated, incandescent with it all.

But the frank light of day diluted all fantasy, and she was unceremoniously shoved into realism. Logically, she knew that he had just happened to cross her path when she needed help, and because (despite his demeanor) he wasn't a total asshole, he'd helped her. There was nothing more to it than that.

Yet, she kept getting lost in fanciful Daryl-daydreams. She put this down to the fact that his words and his actions were so contradictory she couldn't quite get a handle on who he really was, and he was such a closed book that it made her all the more intrigued as to what lay inside. She didn't need the whole story, didn't need to read every word – she just wanted to open the cover, flick through a few pages, get the gist of the main themes. And if she could do that, get to know him a little, get on good terms with him, then he'd cease to be such an enigma and consequently he'd stop taking up so much space in her head and just become a guy that she sometimes saw socially and maybe even had civil, friendly conversation with.

Resolving to keep chipping away until she could at least get a smile out of him, Tahlia's mind shifted to work and the hearing she had first thing Monday morning as she made her way across the park, dew dampening the edges of her sneakers. Only looking up when she came to the road separating her from her apartment block, she stopped short, eyes widening, breath catching in her throat.

There was her car.

Parked just in front of her apartment.

Jogging across the road, she caught sight of a small square of paper tucked under the windshield wiper, a single word scrawled there:

Mailbox

Somewhat dazed, she headed to her mailbox on the outer wall, and inside she found her car keys along with another note:

Cables now in trunk. Get a more reliable car.

She pressed a hand to her forehead.

Enigma.

By the time Tahlia had showered and dressed and stared at the notes a handful more times and looked out the window just as often to check that her car was really there, Andrea burst into the apartment with two smoothies and a bag of buttery pastries from the café on the corner.

"I know you're not rough like I am, but I thought you'd like one of these anyway." she announced, handing a smoothie to Tahlia and plucking a pastry out of the bag for herself before tossing the rest onto the coffee table and collapsing onto the sofa.

Biting into the pastry with a satisfied moan, she gave Tahlia a pointed look. "So?" she demanded through the crumbs, "What the hell happened with Daryl last night?"

"What?!" Tahlia's cheeks colored and she wondered if her sordid thoughts were written all over her face. Dropping down into the armchair, she curled her legs underneath her and shook her head. "Nothing! Just, Rhonda wouldn't start and he was passing by, so he gave me a lift home. I mean, I hadn't even seen him the whole night until then."

"God's sake, Tahly! I told you we should've taken my car!" scolded Andrea in concern. "I am not letting you drive that thing around beyond the city or after dark anymore! You could've been stuck there by yourself all night!"

"Guess I'm lucky that Daryl was still around."

"Yeah, you are. You know, he dragged Merle out of bed first thing this morning so they could drive back up there and get your car."

Bemused by that, Tahlia tugged thoughtfully on a lock of her hair. "Why didn't he just give you my keys and we could've gone and sorted it ourselves today?"

"That's exactly what I said to him! I told him I'd take you up there! But he wouldn't have it. Said it was just easier if he went and got it done. Merle did not agree - he was so pissed, I thought they were gonna have a punch up over it. He wouldn't stop bitching at Daryl." Andrea chuckled and took a long sip of her drink, then arched a sly brow Tahlia's way. "So… was it just a ride home or was there a bedroom ride as well?"

"Oh my God, Andie!" laughed Tahlia, pressing a hand to her cheek.

Andrea sat up straight, her eyes widening. "You're blushing! Did you really sleep with him?!"

"I'm not and I didn't!" promised Tahlia, getting a hold of herself. "Honestly, you've seen what he's like - that guy can barely tolerate being in the same room as me. He's hardly going to rip my clothes off and ravish me."

"Mm, yeah, I suppose you're right." Andrea agreed.

"But," Tahlia bit her lip coyly. "He did take his shirt off, though."

"What?!"

Laughing at Andrea's shout, she shook her head. "I'm kidding! Well, sort of. I was freezing my butt off, so he gave me one of his shirts."

"He did? Aw, that's sweet!"

"Hmm," Tahlia bobbed her head from side to side. "Like, it was, but he just seemed really fucking irritated with me the whole time. Anyway, hey, do you have his number? I want to thank him for getting my car."

"I don't, sorry. I could ask Merle for it? Don't think Daryl's much of a phone user though."

"Ah, no maybe not. And he barely talks when we're face to face, I can't imagine him saying anything at all on the phone. Maybe I'll just wait until the next time I see him."

Andrea wiped her hands on her jeans and settled further back against the arm of the couch. "Ooh, or, they're all going to Fox's this afternoon – he'll be there."

"Are they? Are you going?"

"Apparently some friend of theirs is moving to Florida so they're having a couple of drinks with him before he goes. But nah, I'm not going. I need to go and see mom. Probably stay with her for dinner. Anyway, don't worry about Daryl, I'm sure he won't even give any of this a second thought. I'll just tell Merle to say thanks from you, and no doubt we'll all hang out next weekend or something."

At Fox's, Daryl wasn't even one beer in and he was already wondering if anyone would notice if he slipped off and went home.

He'd shown face, done the rounds and anyway, he'd already seen most of these people this week, and quite honestly, three nights of socializing in a row was way too much for him. He'd spent most of the day alone in the woods just to try and recalibrate. After he'd dropped off Tahlia's car, of course.

A massive part of him wished he hadn't done that. Should've just handed the keys to Andrea and left it at that.

It was one thing to give Tahlia a lift home, but another entirely as to why he would collect her car unbidden. That was slipping into the realm of the unexplainable. But then, her entire effect on him was pretty fucking unexplainable. At least growing up the way he did, he'd become adept at compartmentalizing, and that was exactly what he intended to do with her.

Box her up. Out of sight, out of mind.

Well, that was the plan, even if he wasn't having much luck with it so far.

And before he could remind himself to stop thinking about Tahlia, an unwanted distraction appeared, the smell of sickly sweet perfume stinging his nose and he groaned inwardly. Should have damn well slipped out while he had the chance.

"Hi Daryl!" purred Amber, draping herself over the seat next to him. "I was sorry I couldn't make the party last night, I love it at the lake. Sounded like fun, though! Did you have a good time?"

Daryl wished she wouldn't always sit so close. "Was alright."

"Who did you hang out with?"

"Bunch of people."

"Right." Amber angled herself into Daryl a little more. "How long did you stay for?"

"Dunno. Ain't like I was checkin' my watch."

Giggling as if he'd just told a great joke, Amber swatted his arm. "And what happened when you left? Did you go straight home?"

Daryl had been watching the condensation trickling down the side of his glass, but at that question, he swiveled his gaze to hers and narrowed his eyes.

"What's this 'bout, Amber?"

Twirling a lock of hair around her finger, Amber batted her eyelashes innocently at him. "Well… it's just that Frankie was in Justin's truck and she said that she saw you leaving with that Tahlia girl."

"Yeah." replied Daryl, his tone measured. "Her car was dead. Needed a lift home."

"So you took her on your motorbike?"

"S'right." Daryl valiantly tried to keep his mind from conjuring up the feel of Tahlia's arms around him; the press of her body; the current of delight that he knew had sparked through her as they flew along the open roads.

"Did she ask or did you offer?"

"What's it matter?"

Amber pouted. "You never take me on your bike."

"You ain't never been stranded out at the lake."

"But I've asked you a million times if you'll take me for a ride." whinged Amber petulantly, her brows drawn. "You know how much I want to go on your bike. And even when I have needed a lift you've made me call a cab instead of letting me ride with you."

Sucking on his top teeth in irritation, Daryl attempted to keep his tone level. "Yeah, well you ain't got no helmet."

"Did she have one, then?"

Heaving a harassed sigh, Daryl shot her a dark look. "What's with the twenty fuckin' questions?"

Amber folded her arms and arched a brow. "Are you into her?"

"Jesus, Amber!" Daryl growled. "Barely fuckin' know her. Just gave her a ride home, and that's it. Not that it's any of your damn business."

"We-ell," drawled Amber, painting a sweet smile on her face, "It is kinda my business, I mean, if a guy I'm sleeping with is messing around with other people, I think I have a right to know."

With a grunt, Daryl turned to face her head on, his voice low but firm. "I ain't that guy. What we done is in the past, and that's it. Ain't happenin' again, and I'm sick of tellin' ya so."

Amber looked a little wounded, and Daryl sighed, softening.

"We're friends, Amber, but ain't gonna be nothin' more than that." Daryl got to his feet and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm gonna go. See ya 'round, 'kay?"

Not to be put off, Amber called after him, "I could be real good for you, you know!"

Daryl glanced at her over his shoulder and gave a small nod. "You'll be real good for someone, that's for sure. But it ain't me."

Daryl felt his life had, for the most part, been unremarkable. Mostly shit, actually, in retrospect.

Even after he'd moved away from his abusive father and in with Merle all those long years ago, things hadn't really gotten any better. Just a different kind of shit.

Merle had been fresh out of prison after his dishonorable discharge from the army and was highly volatile and destructive, and without any other prospects, Daryl had let himself be swept along in Merle's shitstorm. A few years disappeared in a haze of drugs and drink and drifting. Merle was dealing – that was how they met Shadow who'd been a regular customer after the accident that ended any hope of a motorbike career – and Daryl had been running for him. Just a couple of redneck assholes circling the toilet bowl of life, and the only feelings on Daryl's emotional spectrum had been angry or empty.

Then, one track day, lit and obnoxious, Daryl got into a dispute with one of the riders over their bike's modifications, loudly derisive over some of the changes the rider had made and why they were substandard, and just before it turned physical, some guy intervened and dragged Daryl away. After trying to fight the guy, Daryl eventually cooled down enough to hold a conversation, and it turned out the guy's name was Axel - a slow-talking, deep-thinking, kindly southerner - and he owned an auto repair shop on the industrial edge of town. Impressed that Daryl seemed to know his stuff about motorbikes, Axel quizzed him a little more and found that he was right. On a whim, Axel then offered Daryl his card and an opportunity at his garage, and Daryl fiercely told Axel to fuck off.

That weekend tapered off, Monday morning rolled around and Daryl woke up with a hangover and a black eye and heavy dark cloud of hopelessness weighing him down. So, with bruised pride and the bitterness of an apology on his tongue, Daryl called Axel and started in the workshop that afternoon.

There were some teething problems – it took Daryl a while to get over his issue with authority and being told what to do; sticking to a routine and shouldering responsibilities were also difficult concepts for him to grasp; and the first few times he received criticism on his work he'd stalked offsite in a huff.

But, for some reason which he never understood, Axel was endlessly patient and encouraging and supportive, and gave him second, third, countless chances over the following months as Daryl settled in. It was a strange feeling for Daryl to have found a sense of purpose in a job that he enjoyed, work that he took pride in, and stranger still to have someone who praised him and believed in him.

Save for a little weed now and again, he kicked the drugs, kept the boozing to the weekends, and dedicated himself to soaking up everything he could at work, growing more level-headed and mature. And maybe because of that, or maybe because it was just time, Merle soon followed suit and found a job on a building site and they moved into a little house on the edge of town and paid bills and opened savings accounts and cooked meals and argued over whose turn it was to clean the bathroom and enjoyed that Friday night feeling of a week hard-worked and downtime hard-earned and the wholesome sense of self-worth that spiraled from all of that.

And Daryl found that a lot of the darkness he'd previously just accepted as the color of his world began to shift and lift and things looked brighter, days felt better, sleep came easier. Of course, it was hard to shake that good-for-nothing mentality that his father had thrashed into him, but after five years of hard work in a steady job which had seen him become a qualified mechanic and Axel's 2IC who was now managing staff and helping to run the business, Daryl knew he had come a long way, and was content with his lot and his small world.

The one area that hadn't changed, however, was his personal life.

When he craved sex, one-night stands were the norm for him, about as far as he could stretch himself. Anything beyond that was unimaginable and quite frankly, unwanted. He couldn't fathom the idea of having someone he was answerable to, that he had to consider and factor into his life.

And love? That was all good for movies and fairytales, but he was certain he just wasn't built for that.

Lust, sure.

He knew what bone-deep want felt like, voracious need in the moment, but that disappeared when the act was over and then all he wanted was distance between himself and the other person – no chat, no cuddles, no connection. It wasn't that he was averse to any of that, exactly, he'd just never felt like doing any of it, figured that he never would, and he refused to fake it. Anyway, he'd seen Merle in varying stages of love to like to complete hostility with numerous girlfriends, and all the drama and hassle that came with it, and Daryl just didn't get it, didn't see the point of tying himself up with all that when he couldn't conjure up feelings for anyone.

And really, the thing was, he'd always felt alone, adrift in the world, like that was just how he was destined to be, and it was fine because he enjoyed his own company, enjoyed being alone, and the idea of mooring himself to someone, of actually wanting to, was inconceivable. He liked the simplicity of his life, doing what he wanted when he wanted. He liked going to work in the week, Fox's on Friday's, hunting on the weekends, rinse, repeat.

That was all he needed.

Now it was Tuesday morning and he was in the grease pit at work with his face shoved in the belly of a car and his mind in the moment and, all in all, things felt pretty good.

"Hey Daryl," Axel crouched down and peered under the chassis. "The Mustang's all done and set to be returned today, but I've got to be here for the DB5 we've got coming in. Think you'd be able to drop it off?"

Wiping his cheek on his shoulder, Daryl looked up at Axel. "Meant to be gettin' this one finished by the afternoon and we're pushin' it as it is. Maybe one of the other guys could do it?"

Axel made an apologetic face and smoothed his blond moustache with his fingers. "You know how particular Negan is about his cars. He doesn't like anyone but me or you driving them. How about I get Dwight to take over from you here and I'll help him out if he needs it, and you get the Mustang back?"

Reluctant to let someone else take over his job just in case they didn't do it to the high standards he set for himself, Daryl conceded that not much could go wrong under Axel's supervision and nodded.

"'Kay. Drop it off now, then, and I'll muck in with this one when I'm back."

"Great, thank you. So, you'll need to take it back to his office in the city – the address is on the invoice on the dash. Drive it down to the lower carpark, just tell the person on the intercom that you're there and they'll tell you where to park it, then take the lift up to the 15th floor and drop the key to his office. To him or his secretary only, though, ok? Then just get a cab back when you're done."

"Got it." nodded Daryl, pulling himself out of the pit. "Just go wash up."

Once his hands were as clean as they were going to get, he pulled his jacket on to cover his dirty shirt and threw a towel down over the Mustang's front seat to protect it, sitting himself gingerly on top in the hopes that he didn't leave marks on the upholstery.

"Right, where we goin'?" he muttered to himself as he picked up the invoice to find the address, then immediately let out a loud groan.

"Gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me."

How the hell did he not connect the dots sooner?

A longtime client of the auto shop, Negan Smith had a small, but impressive collection of classic cars and motorbikes that he'd been bringing in for servicing and repairs for much longer than Daryl had worked there. Generally, Negan preferred to only ever deal directly with Axel, although in the last year, that had extended to include Daryl. Daryl had met him in passing a handful of times and had been to his house – or more accurately, his mansion – up on the hill twice to return his cars. Daryl's impression of Negan was that, although always gracious, he was obnoxiously wealthy, greasily charming, self-important and smarmy, and other than the fact that he was a hot-shot lawyer who headed up a firm in town, Daryl didn't know much else about him, and didn't care to.

But he probably should have picked up on this.

Negan's law firm was Smith Gleeson Greene - the firm where Tahlia worked.

Half an hour later, Daryl had parked up and was drumming his fingers on his thigh as he stepped inside the elegant elevator at Smith Gleeson Greene, careful not to touch anything that he didn't have to, for fear of leaving grubby prints in his wake.

He hated it here already - plush, pristine and fancy as hell.

He felt so out of place and was certain that any moment someone was going to throw him out, like a mangy mutt who'd been caught tracking dirt all through the house. And what if he bumped into Tahlia? Damn, he really hoped that he wouldn't. Not here, not in this place that only served to remind him how impossibly different they were.

With a ding, the elevator signaled his arrival at the 15th floor, and then a very shiny receptionist directed him down a wide corridor towards Negan's office. Sitting in a spacious cubicle just outside a large, glass-walled office, Negan's secretary - a sharp, austere and, quite frankly, terrifying looking woman eyed him critically as he approached. Inside the office, Negan was pacing back and forth, his cellphone glued to his ear while he made vague gestures in the air with his other hand. Daryl was just about to hand the car key to the secretary and be on his way when a rap on the glass drew his attention, and he looked up to see Negan gesturing for him to come in.

Shrugging apologetically at the woman who looked unreasonably irritated by this, Daryl quietly made his way into Negan's office. The space was bigger than Daryl's living room, and he was certain that each piece of furniture probably cost more than he made in a year. Shelves of neatly organized books, vinyls and awards lined one wall, and beyond that, two leather armchairs and a sofa occupied a corner by the glass outer wall which afforded a grand view of the heart of the city. And, at the other end of the room, a huge mahogany desk that Negan, in his immaculate tailored suit complete with pocket square and Rolex, was currently perched on as he said into the phone,

"One second, Si. Hold on for one second." Laying his phone on the desk, Negan strode towards Daryl, his signature wide grin (which Daryl thought had a vaguely predatory air) plastered on his face. "Daryl, my man! How are you?"

"Uh, yeah, good." muttered Daryl as he shook Negan's smooth manicured hand, uncomfortably self-conscious of his own rough, dirty one, and he hunched his shoulders, drawing into himself.

"So, you brought my baby back to me!"

"Yeah, tuned her up real good." said Daryl, tossing the key to Negan who caught it deftly. "You'll notice the difference."

"Excellent, excellent. Well, I just wanted to catch you because I have this for Axel." Negan moved to the coffee table and picked up a boxed bottle of whiskey, then looked up at the shelf on the wall beyond - laden with bottles of wine and spirits - and selected another bottle of whiskey. "And here, this one's for you. Just a little show of appreciation for all you good folk do." grinned Negan as he handed them to Daryl, effortlessly smooth in manner as always.

"Uh, ok, thanks man." mumbled Daryl as he accepted the bottles, both of which he knew to be top-shelf and well out of his normal price range.

Pausing in front of Daryl, his grin stretching wider, Negan nodded.

"The Monster's next in line for a little work, so I'll be in touch about bringing it in. Alright! You take care now."

And then he was swaggering back to his desk and picking up his phone and launching straight back into conversation without a backward glance, and Daryl knew he'd been dismissed. Which was fine, because Daryl wasn't interested in hanging around Negan any longer than he had to.

As he made his way back to the elevator with the bottles tucked under one arm and his gaze firmly on each step of bouncy carpet in front, Daryl was finding it hard to imagine Tahlia working for a man like that. Sure, she had the same ability to talk to anyone and look comfortable anywhere, but she wasn't like him. There was something inherently real about her, something genuine that Daryl just didn't get from Negan.

Then he started wondering what she was like at work, what her days entailed, what her office looked like – was she neat and organized? Or was she the wake of a hurricane? Was it homely? Clinical? Did she have pictures of anyone at her desk? Had she cried there? Fucked there? Was she happy?

The ding of the elevator arriving at the ground floor abruptly pinged Daryl back out of his head, and he gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut for a second.

This compartmentalizing thing wasn't going so well.

At least he was nearly out of this goddamned place and soon he'd be back in the shop with his mind on the cars and nothing else.

Then, when he was halfway across the lobby, the call of his name stopped him in his tracks.

Taking a moment to puff out a breath, Daryl slowly turned around to see that Tahlia had just exited one of the elevators and was sashaying towards him, high heels clacking on the marble floors, a delighted look on her stupidly beautiful face. She was in one of those figure-hugging svelte dresses that seemed to be her work attire, her hair swept back in some sophisticated looking knot - she looked flawless and expensive. A perfect fit for a place like this, a world apart from someone like him.

Stopping in front of him, she glanced down at the bottles of whiskey under his arm and gave a low whistle.

"On it already! Well, it's 5 o'clock somewhere, I guess!"

"What? Naw, I ain't…" he faltered, then realized that she was just teasing and he gave a little huff and rolled his eyes.

Then, wanting to shift the focus to her because he felt so fucking out of place, he looked her up and down and wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"Y'always dress like that?"

Tahlia gave an easy shrug. "Yeah. To work I do. Kind of the corporate dress code expectation. And these -" She kicked up one of her high heels, "- give me a little height and that gives me a lot of confidence for when I have to talk to intimidating folk." She pulled her shoulders back and held herself a little taller and shot him a cheeky grin. "Case in point."

He studied her twinkling eyes for a moment, trying to work out whether she was teasing again or if there was some truth in what she'd said. He'd never considered the idea that she might feel intimidated by him; that maybe there were times when she felt out of place too.

"This is all just for show, Daryl." she said softly, intimately. "Adults playing dress-up. Playing pretend." Then she pulled back and gave him a bright smile. "Anyway, what brings you here? Don't tell me you're here to see me!"

Daryl felt his cheeks flush at the crazy notion that he would ever hang around her workplace just to run into her.

He hadn't even wanted to see her at all today. Right?

Suddenly he wasn't so sure. Suddenly he was aware of the warmth in his belly and the tightness in his chest. But he managed to frown.

"Course I ain't. Did some work for your big boss. Just droppin' his car off."

"Ah, well." chuckled Tahlia. "A girl can dream. Well, I'm glad I caught you – I've been wanting to say thanks. For bringing my car back. That was really kind of you, so, thank you."

Daryl just shrugged. "Ain't no big deal."

"It was to me." insisted Tahlia. "I hate having to deal with anything vehicle-related, so having you sort that out was such an amazing thing, and I can't thank you enough. And I'm sorry, I would have called to say all that to you before now, but I don't have your number." She tilted her head to one side and hitched a shoulder. "So… can I have it? Your number?"

"What for?" asked Daryl, looking slightly horrified by that request.

Tahlia grinned. "So that the next time you do something lovely for me I can ring you straight away and say thanks."

Daryl gave her a withering look. "Ain't gonna be no next time. That was a one-off."

Letting out a little laugh, Tahlia nodded. "Ok. Worth a try. Well, it was still lovely of you and you didn't have to do it."

"I had your keys, so. Made sense."

"Could've given them to Andrea and we would have gone to get it."

"And if ya couldn't get it started? Then woulda ended up ringin' Merle and I'da been dragged out there anyway. Easier for me to just do it." He frowned at her. "Don't needa make no big thing outta it."

"Ok. I won't. Thank you."

"Ya said that already."

Tahlia tried to hide her smile. God, he was so staunch. "So, tell me what I owe you."

"Nothin'."

"What about for the cables?"

"Had 'em lyin' 'round spare at work."

"What about for your time?"

"Hardly took no time at all."

"Ok, then… what about for your shirt?"

Eyebrows shooting up for a second at that, Daryl then gave her a hard look. "I want that back."

Tahlia couldn't help but laugh as she waved a hand at him. "Yeah, I'll get that back to you. How about a coffee, then? I'm just about to go grab one from the place on the corner. Let me buy you something."

"Naw." Daryl shook his head. "Stop. Don't want nothin' from ya."

"Right." Tahlia pressed her lips together, trying to school her face into something resembling a serious expression. "Let me get this straight – you won't let me pay you, give you anything or do anything in exchange for goods and services rendered. So…" she propped her hands on her hips and gave him an innocent look, "I guess that means you did all that out of the kindness of your heart. You know, kind of like what a friend would do for another friend."

Daryl's eyes darkened at that. "We ain't friends."

She grinned. "But we're on our way there, aren't we? I can feel it. You're thawing out."

"Gawd."

"Daryl," she said solemnly, laying a hand on his arm, which he promptly pulled back from. "This right here is the start of a beautiful friendship."

Heaving a tortured sigh, he raised his eyes to the ceiling. "This is what I gotta put up with for helpin' ya? Goddamn, remind me never to do it again."

"You can't fight it. This is happening."

Surprised at the bubble of amusement he felt rising inside him, Daryl managed to keep it in and tsk and roll his eyes instead. "I'm outta here."

"Hey!" she called after him. "Shadow was telling me about that motorbike thing that's coming up! Sounds pretty cool. Think I'll come along. Guess I'll be seeing you there, buddy!"

Without looking back, Daryl flipped her off over his shoulder, and, as he stepped through the automatic doors onto the street and merged into the crowd of passersby, finally allowed his lips to curve in the tiniest of smiles.