Something about the way Daryl responds to her slightest encouragement has her libido roaring to life, no care whatever for the timing or locale. It shows in the way she answers that kiss, a hand on the back of his neck, sinking forward to pare down the inches that separate them. There's as much heat pouring into the contact as she can manage with a mere kiss, and though she had intended to break it off fairly quickly in favor of another plot too tempting to deny, she finds herself curious and so it's not until her advance is blocked by limbs that need reshuffling that Carol pulls back, sudden and smiling.

"Grab my pack for me?" she asks sweetly, gesturing to where her backpack is dangling from a tree branch by its straps, a few steps behind them. She learned the hard way not to leave her things on the ground lakeside.

Assuming Daryl cooperates, he'll have to turn his back on her to follow instructions. She has every intention of interrupting him before he manages to retrieve the thing -- really, she could have just asked him to shift around, but teasing suits her mood. Besides, a little temporary frustration is a good motivator. She intends to make it up to him.