Daryl sounds awful sure of himself, but Ghoul's not convinced. The truth of the matter is that he hates this shit.

Maybe he was the only one to get hurt this time (as proven by the paw against his cheek, which makes it twinge a bit), but that's this time. He despises the fact that there will always be a next time. Someone's luck is bound to run out. Maybe Daryl's, maybe somebody else's. It's the worst kind of waiting game, and all he can do is give Daryl a tense, sad little smile as he reaches up and lightly strokes the fur behind one of his ears in a silent apology.

He doesn't stay silent for long, of course. "I like cats better when they don't run their fuckin' mouths." There, sass is better. He can handle that like a pro. "A gnarly lookin' scar might be kinda cool, though."