Rosa had sort of put together the pieces of why Daryl had seemed familiar the first time she'd seen him in person (as in, she realized he, like so many of the other people apparently stuck here, was .. from a television show). It wasn't just the actor pretending to be his character - Daryl is .. well, Daryl. If it had been anyone else - anyone she didn't particularly care for, she would've blurted it out - but she decides, as she's beginning to file out of the auditorium, that she'll keep it to herself. Only tell him if, for some reason, he figures it out and wants to know more.

She's only seen the first three or whatever seasons, anyway.

The touch of a hand on her shoulder snaps her neck practically off her shoulders, hand immediately reaching into her leather jacket for a dagger or a knife, but when she sees it's Daryl, she rolls her eyes (mostly at herself for having almost gone to chop his head off) and relaxes a bit. She remembers Jake, telling her that they'd always be friends, putting his hand on her and then immediately retracting it, citing the Rosa Rule (of no touching).

The handle of whatever weapon she'd conjured goes back into the leather jacket as she snorts, amused.

"Liking strong spices and tacos isn't the same as liking bad smells, dude," she replies as she glances around at the shuffling crowd. "I mean, I could've told you that without the Super Sniffer." She looks back to him, silent for a second. "So that asshole who called you out during the panel, want me to slash his tires? Set his possessions on fire?"