The last thing he wants to do is set her off crying. Not because he hates seeing people cry (though he does), but because she must have had enough, by now; she's gotten herself steady, if maybe shaky, and he doesn't want to throw her off balance. Things are okay between them-- thank God, she's shown him that-- but it won't stop him from working to make it up anyway.

From another point of view, all that matters is-- they're family. Looking out for one another is how this works. If Glenn were still alive, Daryl would still be ready to defend Maggie and the baby to the death. So everything's changed and nothing's changed.

It feels like something fitting back into place, like nudging a puzzle piece that sat askew into alignment. Not a lessening of the weight hanging over them, but a reinforcement, the strength to bear it. He draws a breath, less shaky this time, and for the first time since he got here-- he's not looking over his shoulder, for just a moment.

"Yeah." Pausing, just a beat, he admits: "I could again."

He's been eating sparingly at meals, for once not because he's worried about whether there's enough-- Hilltop seems pretty well supplied, and Gregory is a shitty asshole who doesn't deserve the courtesy-- but because he's pretty sure he'll eat himself sick if he's not careful.