"How the hell does he like ya more than me?"

Daryl grunted, narrowing his eyes as he watched you interact with Dog. It made his heart pang with... something, with that something in question being an emotion most akin to love, but he'd rather be ripped apart limb by limb by walkers than admit that out loud.

"He ain't yer dog," He continued to grumble, crossing his arms. Was he jealous? Of course not. But if he was (which he wasn't), then he wasn't sure what he'd be more envious of: You, for having Dog like you more, or Dog, for receiving all your affection.

What a pain.

"Tch," Daryl clicked his tongue, growing more irritated by the minute. Of course, it was all nothing but surface-level annoyance — one look from you, and he could easily melt in your arms like putty. "I didn't come here just t'watch ya play with him all day. I got shit t'do too, y'know? And he's comin' with me, 'cause he's my dog."