He should start expecting Phil to blurt out things like that by now. It's not an uncommon occurence, but it still manages to catch him off guard and Jeremy finds this time he's stunned still when he hears it, arms full of clothes and a red colour spreading across his face. He's not sure if that's something he should answer to, or if he should just pretend he didn't hear and try to ignore. But either way, he looks like a dumbstruck idiot when Daryl approaches to take the pile of clothes from him and his brain catches up a moment too late, largely due to the gentle touch to his neck that sends a shiver down his spine and Jeremy has no idea what to make of what all just happened.

Maybe Daryl's still a little drunk. And Phil ... just doesn't know when not to say something. Perfectly logical reasons there.

"... s-sorry." But Daryl's gone into the kitchen and already started talking to Phil, so his awkward apology is unheard in the otherwise empty hallway. He takes his time then to think about all the other, better ways that could've been handled - he could've told Daryl that he didn't mind helping out, or he could've teasingly scolded him about leaving laundry on the floor - but everything required a confidence he didn't have, and it's simply just his lot in life to be the quiet, helpless and annoying one everyone had to watch over.

It wasn't exactly helping that he was getting a headache already as is, and he hated complaining about something he was already accustomed to dealing with on a regular basis. But Alby approaches and paws at his pant leg, his usual sign of concern, and Jeremy lifts the white fox up in one arm as he joins the other two in the kitchen. He leans against the counter, using his free hand to rub at his forehead, only just catching the last bit of conversation between the two. Hair-petting ...?

"... Charlie's?"