Daryl leans back slowly, hands awkward in his lap. He never knows what to do with them when they're not holding something.

"You spooked me," he grumbles, "I ain't your prom date."

He hopes he says it with humor, but sometimes things come out more bitter than he intends. Really, he's a grown man, so the world keeps telling him; it no longer sours his pride when people forget, but it is notable. Maggie, at least, is doing it out of some concession to his will, some kind of respect he doesn't quite understand.

A long sigh. Just say it- "Don't always like being touched. Just... need a warning, sometimes."

He's never had to say that aloud before. It leaves him feeling... lighter, unexpectedly.