"You're-" Daryl felt like swearing and kicking the man, but he did as he was told. "It's a dog bite," he said, going to the wall and standing against it. "I'm not fucking kidding you," he told him. He didn't put his hands on the floor. He wasn't about to leave himself open to any attack. "You're an idiot, and you need to get out of here now, or the chances are, it'll come back and you'll be the one that gets his throat torn open by it," he said, because how else was he meant to get the man to leave?
He wasn't looking at the officer anymore, though. He was focusing instead on the sound, the direction it had come from. There was something back there. Something huddled on the ground, though when he kept his eyes on it, he could see that the figure had six legs. Was it three people? No, it was someone sitting on a chair that had fallen on its side, though given how they were struggling, he didn't think they were sitting there for the entertainment value.
"Whoever that is," Daryl said, glancing at the Sheriff now. "Save them now, get them out of here, and don't come back."