"Ain't talked much."

It's an uneasy admission, but probably not that surprising. Daryl got her husband killed; he figures she can't be eager to talk about that. He can't look at her without seeing it all again; her fevered eyes set in a bloodless face, the sound of the bat. Maybe someday he'll man up and apologize proper, but he's not there yet. Neither of them are, probably.

"Looks... healthy." That's the best he can say. Important, too, when it was such a close call.