Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink.

'Fidgety' was not something Daryl had ever heard anyone accuse him of being before. He sighed heavily, his head drooping to one side in boredom.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

Groaning, he ceased tapping the bolt against the metal table and let it fall from his hand to roll away from him. He leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees for a moment as he rubbed his forehead with one hand. When he absentmindedly began jiggling his leg he knew he'd been sitting for too long and sprung up, glancing around the prison yard from within the watch tower. Nothing.

'Fidgety' was going to make its way to the top of the list of Daryl's descriptions fast. That and 'crazy.'

Things had finally begun to slow down around the prison and, truthfully, it was driving Daryl mad. He couldn't stand the fact that being surrounded by such a large group of people had become the norm. It didn't help that these people had at one point rooted for Daryl to fight his own brother to the death. Sure, he understood that they had been hurled overboard emotionally thinking that Daryl's group was a band of miscreants who sought to kill them and overthrow Woodbury. It didn't piss him off any less thinking back on it, though.

He'd offered to take on longer watch duties in the hopes that being away from the hum of meaningless chatter that seemed to echo throughout the prison would help conserve his sanity. It'd had the opposite effect. Daryl hadn't realized until he began spending most of his days in the isolation of watch duty how fond he'd grown of being around the rest of his group. He'd told Rick he'd prefer to take watch alone, not wanting there to be any chance of a Woodbury citizen getting stuck up there with him. He had no intention of suffering in silence through the awkward idle chitchat that would inevitably ensue. Now he wished he had someone to talk to, but it never felt right asking anyone outright to come on watch with him. Something always stopped him from speaking up before he left the prison to trudge slowly to the watch tower.

Daryl lifted his crossbow from the table and left the small confines of the watch tower to pace its balcony, eyes scanning lazily over the surrounding landscape. There were hardly any walkers moving about the outskirts of the prison and that surprised him. Maybe it was just him, but it seemed like the amount of noise that came from within the prison had skyrocketed with the arrival of their new cellmates. During the day there was never any peace and quiet. Kids running around in the common area. Elderly coughing and shuffling about with no apparent destination. They just seemed to be everywhere and the talking never stopped.

"Need some company?"

The sudden chipper voice startled him so badly that he jumped. He knew who it was already so he huffed and turned to face her, bracing himself against the balcony railing.

"Why you always sneaking up on me like that?" He tried glaring at her but she just smiled, so he rolled his eyes instead. Carol stood before him, a hand on her hip as she grinned at him. "Think you're out to give me a heart attack."

"You make it too easy, always lost in thought nowadays. I thought you were supposed to be a skilled huntsman," she teased, smirking as he narrowed his eyes at her. "I might have to send someone else up here to keep watch if you can't even hear me coming."

"Must be all those damn people you love so much throwin' off my game," he grumbled.

Ignoring his response, Carol held a small bowl out towards him. "Brought you something to eat. Unless you've got some kitchen rigged up in here that I don't know about, you can't be eating that much. I hardly ever see you anymore when we're dealing with food inside."

"What, no steak?" Daryl questioned sarcastically as she handed him the bowl. His stomach turned a bit as he eyed its contents. Ramen. Again. He'd never eaten so much instant food in his life and it was starting to get to him, but he hadn't gotten the chance to hunt in a couple days.

Carol folded her arms across her chest and smiled. "I'll let the chef know you're displeased with your meal." He disregarded her comment and pushed the noodles around with the plastic spork she'd given him. After a moment of thought, Carol spoke. "Me… I've been craving venison like there's no tomorrow."

That comment took him by surprise and he chuckled disbelievingly. "You don't seem like the type to eat deer."

Carol scoffed, "And why's that?"

"Just seems a little too hick or something," he teased. "Deer ain't for the hoity-toity 'save the animals' kinda girl like you."

"A girl like me, pff," she narrowed her eyes at him jokingly. "Shut up."

He quickly imitated her in a prim voice, sticking his chin up, "Daryl you hillbilly, we don't eat deer! Deer are majestic creatures! They're our equals!"

Carol's mouth dropped open into a grin and she smacked him on the arm lightly before they both started laughing. "Even if I was like that you can't be picky about food in the apocalypse. And I'm not like that, thank you very much. I like a beer and a steak as much as the next girl."

He shook his head and rolled his eyes, a short laugh escaping him as he glanced over at the forest.

"Hey, eat something."

He grumbled, peering down at the sickly looking noodles he'd barely touched. "Yes ma'am."

Carol wandered the short distance around the balcony, gazing about the prison yard as Daryl ate. She closed her eyes, breathing in the cool air. The temperature had been dropping steadily over the last couple weeks and it reminded her of the last few days on the farm. They'd been preparing to move into the Greene house for the winter before they'd gotten run off, and then, well… their first winter had been such a disaster, migrating from place to place, no safe haven to reside in as they struggled to stay warm. Carol surveyed the immense prison; many of the windows were broken, but nothing could be done about that. It was going to be another cold winter but a much easier one to manage. More people in the prison meant more body heat being generated. They'd all just have to stay in very close proximity of one another.

Carol snorted at the thought of Daryl being cooped up all winter with so many people.

"What's so funny, huh?" Daryl set the bowl down on the ground beside him and brushed his hands on his pants before looking back up at the smiling woman in front of him.

"Just thinking about when winter comes. Things are gonna get pretty cozy pretty fast once people start getting cold. You might have to help keep some people warm," Carol snickered as Daryl grimaced.

"The hell with that, I'll just move in here."

"You'll freeze!"

"D'rather freeze than be locked up with those people for God knows how long," Daryl muttered, turning away from her and resting his forearms against the balcony.

Carol laughed at his stubbornness and turned to glance inside the tiny room of the lookout. "Looks like you've already got quite the set up here." Daryl quickly looked over his shoulder at her before turning and following her into the room.

A couple bolts lay on the metal table beside one of Daryl's black duffel bags. Carol saw that his poncho had fallen from the chair to the floor and when she squatted down to grab it she noticed several other bags sitting below the table, as well as a small pink box. As she placed his poncho on the chair beside her, she slid the box across the floor towards her. It was a child's shoebox, and it looked new.

"Didn't realize you were a fan of pink," she joked, lifting the box and turning to face him. He'd been leaning against the doorway but now stood upright and shoved his hands into his pockets. She waited for him to say something, but when he didn't, she asked, "What's in here?"

He shrugged a shoulder and moved towards her before taking the box from her hands and placing it on the table. Carol peeked around him as he opened the box and tossed its lid onto the table. She pulled the box towards her slightly and took in its contents.

"Just… a couple things I grabbed last time I went out on a run," Daryl murmured, watching as Carol inspected the items within the box.

She smiled, her hand pushing the things around in the box. She had been right; the shoebox must have been untouched before, because there was a new pair of toddler-sized shoes within it. They were pink and white, and when she tapped one of them slightly the bottom lit up, flashing red, white, and pink. She grinned and turned towards Daryl whose mouth was upturned slightly.

"Thought Lil Asskicker might feel like a badass runnin' 'round with flashin' shoes. Be like she's a little cop or somethin'," he said, feeling somewhat embarrassed. "A little Rick Grimes."

"She's going to love them when she's old enough to run around in them," Carol replied, suddenly feeling very giddy. She wasn't surprised at Daryl's kindheartedness but rather at the thought he'd put into what he'd grabbed on his run.

"Who knows if they'll even still light up by then," he muttered, shrugging a shoulder.

"She'll love them," Carol repeated as she continued looking through the box. A new child's toothbrush with tiny ducklings on it sat beneath other duckling-themed accessories: a small brush with little hair ties wrapped around its handle, a couple pacifiers, a headband, a couple plastic necklaces, and bibs. Completing the theme was a rubber duck that sat beside the pile. Carol giggled as she picked it up before squeezing it in front of Daryl's face.

He snorted and batted her away with his hand, rolling his eyes at the woman but he was smiling all the same. He watched her face intently as she continued looking at the things he'd placed in the box. The small smile he was so familiar with never left her face and that kept causing a smile to tug at his own lips.

"A little Judith box," Carol sighed happily, turning to beam at Daryl who looked away quickly.

"A Lil Asskicker box," he corrected, sliding the lid of the box toward him, preparing to take the box and close it.

"Except, well, what's the scarf for? It's a little big for her, don't you think?"

Daryl's eyes darted over to her hands which were hovering over the box, playing with the long purple fabric. Her fingers rubbed over the lumpy material slowly, back and forth, taking in the softness of the scarf. When Daryl didn't answer she glimpsed back over at him, raising an eyebrow. He was biting one of his thumb nails as he stared at the scarf.

Daryl couldn't tear his eyes away from it. This was, in part, because he was mesmerized watching her stroke the knitted wool, but also because he didn't have an explanation for that one. At least, not one that he knew how to put into words without sounding like an idiot. When Carol cleared her throat softly, he met her eyes. She was just looking at him expectantly and it was making him uncomfortable. Moving his hand away from his face he shrugged and opened his mouth but nothing came out, so he closed it again. He rubbed the back of his neck and hoped she would say something but she never did. She just started to fold the scarf up.

"I…" he started, finally, placing his hands on the table top and leaning forward slightly. "It's for you." Carol suppressed the wide grin that threatened to spread across her face but allowed an incredulous smirk to form instead as she gazed over at the awkward man beside her. He noticed this and his eyes shot up toward the ceiling. "I dunno, just grabbed it at the last second. Thought you might like it, is all, since your other one's kind of… shredded." His mouth twisted, thinking about when he'd lifted the bloody scarf from the hallway floor on the day he'd thought Carol was dead.

"That's so thoughtful of you, Daryl," Carol responded almost teasingly, finally allowing that grin to form. She didn't want to embarrass him by showing him how touched she really was by his gift, even though he'd never address it as such. "Thank you."

Daryl's mouth turned up slightly as he shrugged again. His stomach was doing flips and he hoped she hadn't noticed his uneasiness. She held her hand out toward him and he raised an eyebrow in confusion. She glanced down at the box's lid he'd been pushing back and forth between his hands and motioned for him to give it to her. "Oh," he said quickly, shaking his head as he shoved it in her direction. He was fidgeting again.

"Why didn't you show this to Rick or Beth or anyone yet?" Carol questioned as she placed the lid back on the box.

Daryl tipped his head to one side, thinking. "Dunno. Guess I didn't want all those damn people seeing what I brought back and askin' me why I got a pink box. Already got you hecklin' me about it." He smiled as she stuck her tongue out at him very briefly.

"You should give it to Beth," Carol stated, crossing her arms and gazing at Daryl. She couldn't really place the emotion on his face but she didn't think he was too interested in that idea. "Or I can…"

Daryl nodded hastily and shoved the box in her direction, forcing her to uncross her arms and take it. "Do that."

Carol smiled, shaking her head as Daryl walked to the balcony to retrieve the bowl he'd left sitting on the ground. After taking the bowl from him, she observed him for a moment before saying confidently, "You're a sweetheart, Daryl Dixon."

"Pff," he huffed, scowling at her wide grin. He shook his head and turned from her to walk back to the balcony as she laughed at him. "Be careful," he called out without facing her.

When Carol's laughter faded and he couldn't hear her anymore, he looked over his shoulder to find that she'd gone. He quickly moved around the side of the watch tower, catching her in his sight as she made her way toward the prison, repositioning the bright pink box under her arm. His heart was beating quickly like it always did when Carol said something ridiculous to him like that but that didn't keep him from smiling. As she grew closer to the prison, she turned back and caught him watching her. She beamed up at him and raised a hand to wave goodbye before entering the prison.

Daryl stood in the same position for a few moments, not being able to wipe the huge grin from his face.

"Thank God I'm alone."