You never know, he might surprise her. As much as he doesn’t like letting his softer side show in public, he’s not embarrassed of her; and frankly, Daryl would be shocked if anyone who knew them would be shocked to find them like this. If there’s gossip, he doesn’t know about it, but he thinks he’s been fairly open with how much he cares. And their people, at least, they understand what the world’s like, how hard you have to cling to the things worth keeping. But he’d rather keep it private, because it doesn’t need to be about anyone but them. Because if something happens, neither of them need the pitying glances to remind them of what they’ve lost.

Besides, in practical terms it’s not like they can keep making out in the hallway forever.

It’s more than all right when she stops, and he lets himself rest there against her, eyes falling shut a moment as he raises a hand to cup her cheek, thumb on her jawline, gentle and pleased. The thing he doesn’t think she gets, the thing he has no way to convey, is that she’s the one in control here. At least, he’d like her to be the one in control. Maybe in its own way that’s no healthier than her marriage had been, and maybe it should scare her, how much it doesn’t scare him. He’d give her nothing or everything, exactly as she wishes. Especially if she keeps touching him.

“Could just ask,” he murmurs, impishly.

It’s a joke, she doesn’t even have to ask.