He shoots her a measured, sidelong glance, annoyingly unreadable. She's better at guessing what's on his mind than most-- which is saying something, really, because all of them have been together so long that they rarely need to talk-- but chances are even Carol can't glean much from his expression. Daryl himself is too divided, trying to work out what response he really wanted, and whether that's it.

But after a moment he looks away, his face a careful blank, paradoxically a clear sign of faint embarrassment, though not so awful that he's going to cut their conversation off. On someone else it'd practically be a blush. He'd laugh, but he doesn't know if they're joking, if he wants them to be.

"Should go in," he says, a little abrupt, looking toward the door cause he's not steady enough to look at her again just yet. Subject changes are always the safest course of action, right?