The silence stretches on for longer than it should and he's reluctant to end it. Beth really doesn't want to know. Except she needs to, because who the hell knows what may happen when and if these Capitol, Gamemaker, whatever-assholes return them to their own world. She might stumble across the Terminus signs, too. She needs to know to stay the hell away from the place, or whatever's left of it.

"Was a literal slaughterhouse," he answers in a voice barely above a whisper. "For people. They kept the live ones locked in train cars, and were gonna butcher and eat us. Nearly did." If they didn't come from the world they did, there might be some humour to be found in his explanation. But the horror of the place — the swaying human torsos on meat hooks, the people left to bleed out, the goddamn grill out front with meat on it — is still too vivid in his mind to crack any jokes. It makes him vaguely queasy just remembering.

"We found the others there. Most everyone except Carol, Tyreese, Judith — they were safe outside. If not for Carol..." He shakes his head. "She got us out. About blew the whole damn place up rescuin' us." And there's an undeniable swell of pride colouring his tone as he says that last part. "Later, after all that, me an' her went lookin' for you. We'd seen a car like the one that took you."

That also feels important for Beth to know, that he'd never given up on her. She isn't just another dead girl to him. She's his family.