Her attempts to downplay it only made it stand out all the more. 'Cause it made it obvious just how aware of the disparity she was. Like she was saying he didn't really belong.

Daryl had wiped his feet like she asked. He also hugged his arms to himself, fingers curled into the armholes of his vest so his torso was as compacted as possible. He made special care not to bump into anything lest the dirt and grease from his bike and way of life smear itself on some unsuspecting clean object in the house. Like a wall, or a vase, or a chair. But he followed her, lips pressed tightly closed and body wound up, clearly uncomfortable.

As they made their way through the house, movement caught his eye down a hall they passed and instinct made him pause and step back to gauge what he was seeing. Be it a person or an animal or a mirror and if it was a threat. Well, luckily it wasn't exactly a 'threat', but it was definitely a person.

Looks like Gran was home, and she'd spotted Daryl with Annie no where in sight. Daryl blinked at her wide-eyed, suddenly aware it probably looked like he'd broken in.

"Uh, Ma'am," he murmured, all southern manners now, trying to get his words out before she screamed or attacked him. "Lovely house you have."