[ He watches this. He watches it carefully - so carefully - and he knows. He's a good judge and for now, concentrating on live-or-die is enough. Still, pale eyes don't leave Daryl like he's not sure the other man isn't going to simply disappear. Maybe he still will. Like he's proving to himself that he won't, Paul drops his hand until it's on his own leg, barely touching Daryl's hand - the weight on his knee doesn't seem to quite be enough. ]

What, and I decided to let some asshole Savior shoot me? [ Wry.

He's calmer than he was though, breathing easier despite the pain still being there. It's funny: moving from endless calm to tense worry. Then right back to calm again just because Daryl is here, Daryl is touching him, reminding him he's here. Stupid, childish.

He shakes his head and he's not sure if it's in answer or incredulity at himself. ]

We should probably do a full clean-up. If there's any evidence left when they come looking, they've only got a few options for people to blame.

[ Eventually he breathes out slow, that same hand lifting to grip at Daryl's bicep. ] C'mon, I'm gonna stand up.