Daryl didn't want to use drinking as a crutch of any kind. This was an exception. This was going to hurt like a son of a bitch. The whiskey wouldn't make it not hurt, but might make his mind numb enoug to get through it. Preferably without lashing out at Julian who was trying to help him, and helping him at Daryl's request. Hitting him would be a pretty shitty thing to do.
He drank a good pull, and a second gulp before he shifted again, rolling a little and struggling to sit up more and give Julian better access to the bolt. He steeled himself, he knew it was going to hurt. It was going to hurt like hell. Possibly the worst pain he'd ever experienced.