"Yeah, I guess you're right," he agrees. He watches her for a moment, like he wants to ask her something. Then he says, "Well, uh. Want a beer, or something? Can't imagine it's very fun, being somewhere one sec, then bam, somewhere else." He gestures towards his fridge. His apartment is pretty bare, factory-new with just his bike and work shoes against one wall, his bag draped over the handlebars. No decorations, no art. Not even junk mail magazines on the coffee table.