[ The click from the changing screen makes Daryl look, already panicked that it could be some other shitty memory of his laid out to be dealt with, but he doesn't recognize what he sees. At least not immediately. He doesn't even realize the significance of his confusion quickly enough and it takes until he finally recognizes the expressive brow on the child in the center of the frame to know.

Just like the last time, once he realizes what - who - he's seeing, Daryl doesn't want to look. He turns away fast and then remembers the command. The deal for getting out of here. Maybe if he doesn't look, if he doesn't know, whatever this is won't count it for Gabe. Then the pain would be for nothing. He has to do his part.

So he looks. And what he couldn't feel for himself rushes in for Gabe. ]

Ain't any such thing. Else the world wouldn't be what it is.

[ His world, Gabe's. Maybe they're more similar than Daryl is even aware of. Bad shit happens everywhere and he knows what survivors look like. It isn't ever pretty and all of them are dangerous.

But dangerous to whom is all that really matters. ]

Livin' that shit is punishment enough. This?

[ Daryl spits between himself and the screen, all impotent frustration. ]

This is because they get off on it. It ain't about us.