Rosita includes herself in that statement: there's no reward left for caring about feelings, although she does her best anyway. She's just not as successful at it as Jesus is by far, in part because she's not trying as hard as he is. His vision for what the world can be is important but so, too, is her brutal practicality for what it is. For what it's going to take to get to the next world Jesus wants.

The gentle tone grates on her the way being patronized always has, even though she knows - she does - that's not what he's doing. It just feels that way, feels like a threat for no reason she can explain to anyone who hasn't been there, so she nods ever so slightly and waits until he goes ahead with his question.

"I know it will," she says simply. She's seen it. She's lost friends and more to it. People who fought through weeks and weeks of walkers and open road only to lose their way when they reached safety and let it all go. "But more importantly, I'm the one that has to start there and work backwards. Jesus gets to start out believing the best. I believe the worst. We meet somewhere in the middle, and we both stay alive, we both stay safe, but we both get to feel too."