“You know, now that I think about it, you’re just his type,” he said. “Daryl always did like rolling over for the alpha dogs.”

I’m a bastard, Rick. Your bastard. Your mean fucking bastard of a boyfriend, and don’t you just cream your fucking jeans for it?

When your family is hurt or in danger, when you've got nothing to lose or live for... something snaps inside of you. And a small, silent part of Rick respects that savagery in defense of family.