"Fucked if I know," he huffs about whether or not he looks nineteen. Daryl rolls him onto his back and settles atop him, proprietary. "Younger'n me, anyway." And quit your whining about looking like a junior highschooler without #theaesthetic, Paul. Daryl kisses him.

"...I grew up in northern Georgia. You understand? I dunno how old anybody's supposed to look."

Deadpan. He doesn't make many references to his childhood, not even joking ones like this, but that's what it is: a joke. Northern Georgia is about as horrifyingly rural as it gets, with teenagers getting married and shit. There's no surer sign of how comfortable he is with Jesus, to say something like this.