Abby raises an eyebrow. "But he doesn't kidnap nieces?" She's watching him methodically patch that hole in his jacket, silently judging the tension and length of his stitches: they're good. She understands that Daryl is falsely linking them together for her safety, but that doesn't mean she has to like it or anything. She's going to make one unruly niece.

She pauses, then decides to just ask him. "Where'd you come from?"

She's never bothered to wonder this about him before. For all Abby knows, Daryl just walked out of the woods one day fully formed, as he is now. Or maybe he was born inside of a flower like in Thumbelina, and grew a little every day.