Of all the things Daryl could have said, Aaron was expecting that the least. He takes a confused half-step backward, staring blankly at the space just to the left of Daryl's head. He doesn't know how to respond to that. No one's ever said... or even implied...

Aaron swallows. His mouth, he distantly realizes, feels a little dry.

"What- what am I supposed to do?" It's said with more bitterness than he'd like. He grunts, and brings his hand to his temple, attempting to ward off that sudden up-swell of acrid annoyance. Daryl doesn't deserve his misplaced anger.