Daryl isn't used to anyone actually noticing his barely-there tells, and for a moment he looks confused. Uncertain what Spencer could be apologizing for. So he just ... sits there, awkward, staring at the younger man, unable to puzzle out what happened, and not socially confident enough to feel able to ask.

He sits back in the chair, and this time doesn't manage to stop himself from bringing a hand to his mouth to worry at the side of one thumbnail with his teeth. A nervous tick. It's only when he remembers that the still-healing burns on his hands are there, obvious and pale in stark relief against ruddy skin, that he abruptly lowers his hand again. Oops.

With a rough sound, he clears his throat.

"M'fine." Yep. Entirely. Real normal. "Reckon you won't find a job for me, so I'm just resting up 'til I can get back out there. Go on runs, or whatever."