Frogspawn Swamp thousands of years, an eternity, without changing

Of course he had to ask for an explanation. Charles grimaced, clearly unsure what to say. He honestly didn't know precisely why. It wasn't that the Saints were a bad place to be. He just didn't want any ghosts from his past lingering about. It's a violent pack, he said eventually, clearly picking his words very carefully. Too... ah — Charles tried to find a word, but could not find anything that came close to what he was trying to say with his limited vocabulary. — rough, I think, for someone like you. Antares was too refined for the gritty life of the Saints of the Dying Light, surely. Charles didn't think it'd be a good fit.

Perhaps if they'd talked about their experiences at Redhawk Caldera they might've found a common ground to talk about, but Charles did not. He presumed that Antares held it in high esteem since it was also the place where Bronco was from originally. Besides, he didn't really want to talk about Redhawk Caldera or his past.