Christ, maybe he oughta leave her here; she's the kind who's gonna bite the hand that feeds her and spit it out to boot. He's not soft-hearted enough to worry, exactly, about what the hell made her that way, but curious enough to half-wonder. That's just the way of things. Sometimes you get dealt a shit hand, you just live with it.

He gives her a long, measuring look.

"What d'you think I want?"

Cause Merle, he hasn't got a clue what she's fighting for at this point. He wonders if she does.