"Fucking dream," Daryl mutters. "Close the door." He lumbers his way back to the couch, because being on his feet isn't a picnic. If he happened to kick something under the couch, well. He's more focused on the arrow embedded in his side.
"Think you can get this thing out of me without causing me to bleed out?" Getting the damn bolt out of his side was priority. "Went out looking for the missing girl. Had a mishap with my damn horse." The horse he'd taken out of Hershel's barn without asking, but that was irrelevant.
"Rather not try to explain this shit at a hospital."