Mankind had moved away from the church, that was never more apparent than when dealing with locals and 'refugees' alike. To hear insults come from the man's mouth about the church before he'd even said his name was nothing more than a mild irritation. Cesare accepted it with a wry smile. "God follows after," he said shortly and made a subtle sign of the cross in the air.
God didn't care what his pets did down here, to each other, or the future. God followed after and their judgment would begin then, what happened in the meantime didn't matter. Especially not to Cesare. His Confessor was the Pope of Rome, he was guaranteed heaven despite his sins.
"I don't follow your reference to 'Walkers'," he said simply, but did turn and lean against the trunk of the automobile all the same, taking up a stick and the spare blade Daryl was using to carve the pikes into being. "You've cleared these practices with the city and the refugees?" and began the work of whittling the pike.