Daryl is faintly aware he should be annoyed by this blatant needling. Once, it might have even made him angry. But after a certain point, that much emotional whiplash just gets exhausting. Daryl rocks back on his heels, staring down at Miles with a keenly unimpressed expression. Finally, he huffs, and finds a log to sit on. "Gone gimme a crick in my neck," he mutters.

And now he has to decide what to do with, apparently, someone with more curiosity than sense. Christ, if him and Beth ever team up, it'll be the end of Daryl as he knows it.

"The hell you think I'm hidin'?" He squares his shoulders. What would Merle do if someone so obviously tried to pull the rug out from under him? Turn it back on them, insult their manhood, try to fight them. Well, Daryl really has no interest in most of that, except... "If we're talking truth, you can start. You kidnapped Duv. What was in it for you?"