4.

"Dude, nice crossbow!"

Daryl blinked at the young man who dropped out of the log beside him. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the small, tough group of men and women (and a little girl and baby boy) that they've run into in New Hampshire.

All of them were heavily armed, except for the baby (the little girl had a machete and a compact crossbow and look like she knew a use of both), and strongly blasé about the zombie apocalypse. Most people Daryl had met had not reacted to this new reality of the world with sarcasm, black humor….or babble.

"Nothing says 'Ha-Ha, bitches, look at me!' quite like a crossbow, am I right, my new, unwashed, mute friend?"

Turning toward the chatty kid, Daryl glared, but he continued to ramble along happily about types of arrows as though unfazed.

Annoying or not, the kid knew his stuff.

Across the fire, the quiet Hispanic guy in the hat gave the kid a fond look, then shrugged it Daryl as if to say, 'what're ya gonna do?'

Daryl didn't do anything, merely reflected that Merle would so kick his ass over this.