Daryl didn't consider himself a very touchy-feely man. Hell, past six years old, whenever he'd cry, his old man would pull out the belt and make him pretty goddamn sorry for every tear. So he learned to deal with things in the way that got his father's approval so long as it wasn't toward him - by getting angry. Though... that didn't always help him, nowadays.

Foraging had gone wrong. You'd run into a band of walkers while you were off on your own and almost gotten yourself bit trying to load your gun. Daryl was so goddamn furious that he could hardly see straight. He'd trained you better than that. He couldn't believe you'd be so stupid as to separate from the group without your weapon locked and loaded.

"Do you have any idea how goddamn stupid that was? You got a head on your shoulders for show?" He shouted, pushing your shoulder.