He gives a little shrug, a sad smile. The implication is clear: that was his mom. Somehow he can't make himself say it aloud, even though it's obvious. He barely talks about her, barely ever has.

It strikes him then how many people here seem to be that way. Daisy, definitely. Doc. Probably Negan. Dean. Malcolm, though his before happened a long time ago. Neal isn't sure Raylan ever had a before to lose.

Neal plucks idly at the guitar strings, watching Ellie's face, trying to gauge how far to go, how much to push. "Whoever taught you to play knew music from before the infection," he notes quietly.