"What, you care?"

What he intended as a mocking insult comes out as an accusation, punctuated by an obvious undercurrent of hate and jealousy. His sneer twists until it looks more like he's baring his teeth. Everything was so much easier when Daryl was just some ugly bastard America bothered every once in a while. They could fight and it'd actually be fun, not a futile exercise in spite. If only Daryl had turned and ran, Amirrorca could boast that he'd left them behind, and see Alfie? Just you and me!

For a moment he looks offended that the redneck could possibly think that he'd hurt his dear counterpart, but then decides he could use it to his advantage to try to provoke Daryl. Insult before injury, or however that saying goes.

"Doesn't matter," he says, flippantly waving the hand not holding the branch. "You ain't gettin' him outta this coma any time soon, Prince Charming. Best ya can do is join him in the dark!"

His shoulders square, body twists, and he swings the massive branch straight at Daryl.

"'Course, no one's gonna be there to help you! Hero's fast asleep and no one else gives enough of a shit about you."