Italy. The word searches for a foothold in his mind, but finds none. He's never heard of it before, but really, there are a lot of places he's never heard of before, and picking out every one to ask about it would serve only to distract from more important things. Like her. Like being here.

"Is it better here?" He asks, "Are you happier?" He's spent quite a good portion of this week finding out that people tend not to have been happy with having been kidnapped, and quietly gloating about it. For them, he wants to maintain the illusion that this place is a promised land, where the absence of humanity makes you better rather than worse. It's certainly held up in the encounters he's had so far, but she's been here long enough to confirm or deny it.

He nods his head, to her question, "Yes. I was brought here a little under a week ago."