Daryl flinched, knowing he had closed the front door too loudly. He watched you startle awake from the couch, presumably where you had been waiting for him to return. He walked over and nudged you, rustling a hand in your hair.

It didn't take long for you to notice the scrapes and dried blood littering his shoulders and back. His vest was ripped up, and he knew you wouldn't let it go without an explanation.

"Hey, doll," he muttered. "I'm fine, jus' a bit'a road rash."

This didn't deplete your worry, however, and Daryl chuckled as you looked over his wounds.

"I promise, it ain't no big thing."