He looks like hell. Even worse than he was when she dragged him in here. When he finishes puking, he doesn't even wipe his mouth on his sleeve. That's the thing that scares her, more than the puke itself ever could, and she picks up the handkerchief to dab at his face herself. He won't like it, but someone's gotta.

"The lit--Daryl!" She draws her hand back, appalled. "You were fighting Miles?"