Honestly, Carol has given exactly zero thought to how she'd react to someone asking her about Daryl. She's far enough on the outside looking in, thus far, that she figures Daryl's the one more likely to get questions, possibly even of the what are you thinking? variety. Because truly, with the way he's all over her right now, she finds it impossible beyond her wildest dreams that anyone wouldn't want to trade places with her. Even platonically speaking, Daryl is arguably the most valuable member of their group, the most reliable and consistent and universally protective. This is a man who almost killed himself looking for a lost little girl he had no responsibility to save. If she ever heard him imply he's not a catch she'd threaten... something non-violent, yet incredibly effective at making her point. She'll think on specifics if it happens.

Finding her mental footing, Carol is happy enough to give up her actual footing and let Daryl push her into bed. She refuses to let this encounter be another thing she looks back on with regret and perhaps the only thing that could cause that is her being a cold fish (a phrase which, by the way, has taken on a whole new meaning between today's catfish interruption and references to card games). He won't need to worry about hesitation, now that she's catching up with herself Carol's as daring as he is, her hands pulling at his shirt buttons if there's a way to squeeze it between them, returning his kiss with with abandon despite already having her breath stolen away.

Only in hindsight will she wonder if perhaps she should have been bothered by the breakneck speed, and only in a purely theoretical sense. In the moment neither her body nor her mind are saying anything but yes, yes, yes. Chances are good her voice will get in on that, eventually.