Carol would be more amenable to skipping the kissing if she knew she had implicit permission all along. She was still thinking of Daryl as the one who flinched at a touch, who had too many boundaries she was afraid to breech. She's come a long way, isn't any longer the meek and frightened woman she once was, but she's still human with all the fears and worries. And pushing Daryl's boundaries when who knows what reaction it might garner hadn't seemed worth the risk.

Nothing has changed between them meeting in the driveway and now, except that she's more aware of where she stands with him. Where she's stood for a while, perhaps. Aside from the prospect of hair-twirling she can't manage to mourn that lost time; she needed it. Maybe it was her who had the boundaries, in the end.

Idly, she rubs his neck through the fringe of his hair and wonders aloud about other matters.

"Last time we had the chance to ask for something from home, I couldn't think of a single thing. I don't want to waste my next chance." This is her asking for ideas, or something. A brainstorm. Maybe just trying to come to terms with everything that happened in a way that feels less like a confession.