"Uh, I don't think people were exactly cool with it back home, either? At least, not people who weren't crazy bandits yelling about meat bicycles."

And no one really cares about the bandits' opinions, because they're crazy and talk about poop trains. Moral of the story is, Tim's not okay with the idea of hiding in the woods, being Actual Cannibal Timothy Lawrence. That is just really not his jam, he doesn't even really like having to kill bandits, and they're trying to kill him first. He at least has the comfort of knowing that everyone he puts a bullet into has it coming. Some random asshole on the street doesn't deserve to get mauled to death because his bullshit dietary requirements put long pork on the menu.

"And, and I mean not everyone here is a monster, right? There are plenty of regular people. Maybe everyone doesn't change."

That's the tiny sliver of hope that Tim's going to hold on to, okay. He's going to hold onto the minuscule possibility that whatever stupid bullshit turns everyone into boogities just sort of missed him on the way in. Miss him with that spooky shit.