Daryl snorts, not quite laughter, but it's on the road there. This kid is kind of... green, is the sense Daryl gets; he's the sort that isn't long for this world. But he's got a good attitude about things, even if it's not gonna keep him alive.

Damn shame.

"Always been a light sleeper," he says, code for don't worry about it. "You start screaming... you want me to knock you out?" He might be dangerous, or he might just want to keep it private. Daryl won't judge.

The thought of healing doesn't occur to him. Healing is a far-flung dream in Georgia-- enduring is as good as many ever get.