"Something like that," Paul says in agreement eventually, "but I knew my bite was..." he gestures vaguely to where he was bit - way too high, way too close to his heart. To then his brain, in turn. "Yours was far enough down they might have been able to save you."

Instead the wounds are just... healed? With the flesh and sinew and everything all put back together.

"We'll both need clothes," he replies at length, a little like he's normalizing it. He's not pandering - he's not going to do anything obvious like burn his own clothes too - but he does need a new shirt and coat. His vest is fine.

Let's go then, he says with his eyes, then licks his lips (they're never going to see anyone they care about again, and if they do does that mean they died?) and lets Daryl go so they can start to search the tiny apartments more thoroughly.

They're almost all studios, which makes it quicker work at least.