Daryl had been distracted by his conversation with Glenn all day. He kept checking his phone, expecting the other man to call or leave a text cancelling, maybe even hoping for it. As much as Daryl knew that he had to tell him what really happened then -- he deserved to know, and if it were Daryl, he'd sure as hell want to know from the guy's brother who had been pussying out of offering that information -- he was not looking forward to this. He had been only half-listening to Tifa's instructions all day, getting just a little over half the usual workload that he'd been managing the past few days.
Back home, they couldn't seem to go a day without nearly dying. Being here should have been like some sort of break, but the past two months had been anything but kind to him in terms of surprises. He figured the least he could do is try to save Glenn from facing a surprise head on himself. Those were the thoughts in his head as he sorted the inventory shit in the storage area and Glenn's voice floated through the open door. Yanking the rag out of his back pocket, he wiped down his hands of the dust before he tucked it back into his jeans. He headed to the refrigerator to grab two of the cheaper beers still bottled before he headed out to the front.
"Hey," he said, gruffly, and walked over to one of the small tables, dropping down onto the stool seat with a slight sight. He gestured to the seat across from him with the beer in his hand before he set one down in front of Glenn's seat and kept the other for himself. "Guess there ain't no reason to beat 'round it... Merle's the one that took you and Maggie to Woodbury." Like ripping off a damn band-aid.