It's his turn to wrap himself around Daryl now, as he climbs up behind him, and he allows himself the complete comfort of nearly plastering himself to the other man's back, pressing his face to the curve and plane of Daryl's shoulder.

He can't wait to get the fuck out of here, to try and forget that man's eyes, to get the blood off of him.

"I'm good," he says, his voice low, knees nudging forward. "Go."