He’s heard that before –- and as much as he’d like to give in and believe it without a twinge of misgivings, it’s in him to worry, far more so with his friends scattered and at the mercy of traps and other tributes. He hadn't survived this long being careless, after all. “Walkers?”

There’s a flicker of surprise and of pained recognition in his eyes before his features settle into a frown. "...We're talkin' dead things attracted to sounds and the smell a' blood an' that move around in herds, right?" With so many people drawn in from different times and worlds, he has to be sure.