This is, Aaron is distantly aware, the problem of being an only child. He holds the bottle, cork floating in wine that's probably worth more than the last two paychecks he ever received, and he hasn't a clue how to proceed. He sort of wants to leave, but Daryl doesn't deserve the implicit rejection of that gesture. If it only saves one face, it isn't really worth it.

"Really," he says, "I'm just... feeling sorry for myself." His voice wavers just slightly. "It's fine."