She didn't realize how much she'd tensed until he promised not to say anything. Hearing it makes it a little easier to breathe. Far beyond my pay grade. It would be, for a drunk. For whatever else Byerly is, she's not sure.

"Thank you." This situation still isn't great, but it could be worse. The way he promises is dismissive, the kind of small drama she's starting to associate with his false front, but what choice does she have here? If he's lying, there's not much she can do about it. For now, it's easier to hope this is the truth. So she lets it go at that--for now, at least--and asks the question she needs an answer to. "If I do die, will you still stab me? Just in case."

The thought that she might still turn somehow still sickens her stomach. If it comes down to it, she'd rather her corpse endured stabbing than becoming a walker.