It takes Daryl a moment to remember what zombie means. It such a stupid goddamn name for the thing responsible for nearly all the deaths he's seen, and the ones he was too late for. The thing that killed Sophia, the things that destroyed their home, the thing that drove Terminus to cannibalism shouldn't be called a word that sounds like a kind of theatre box candy.

The secret the Cetagandans tortured him over shouldn't be called goddamn zombies.

It's a secret he'd tried to die for. His face falls, settling hard into a closed off expression. He was in a good mood before, and that evaporates quickly. The change is subtle, but easily seen if you're patient enough to read the signs, the sudden sharpening of his features, the rigidity of his posture. Daryl isn't above leaning forward slightly, lording his full height over the other man.

"What'd you hear?" His voice is thin, edged harshly with suspicion.