"Jude's rubbing off on you." Or maybe Beth did, sometime long ago. She hardly lets herself think it, let alone say it. But she links pinkies with him, giving them a single shake. It's a deal.

Maggie leaves soon after, most of her wine left undrunk in Daryl's cups, and they move in the next day. There's not much to bring over; they've spent so much time traveling light that it takes longer to scrub the place up than to bring their stuff over. Not that it was in need of much cleaning - but the upstairs has gone unused long enough that there's floors to sweep and furniture to dust.

By lunchtime, they live there, and by dinner - featuring the promised backstrap - Hershel's probably already made a nuisance of himself, but Daryl doesn't seem to mind. They fall into new routines, and as he'd warned, Daryl's only there part of the time anyhow. But he's there enough that his return's always something to look forward to. And sometimes, when he's around, they sit up after Hershel's been sent to bed and talk about whatever comes to mind.

It's comfortable. Domestic. A little dangerous. Maggie doesn't bring out the wine again.

After breakfast one morning, she catches Daryl before he can escape out the back door. "You doing anything today?"