"But some people do," he answers, trying to follow the thought where it goes, trying not to guess the right thing or clamp up when he can't find it. He was in a cave for two days and no one was looking for him: that's a scary thing, even if he wasn't looking for friends. Not knowing how to talk to people didn't stop it mattering when you come back from the dead and find yourself surprised anyone cares enough to take some care. "I guess it helps if they come in with people they know."

The lady by the fountain, she seemed fine, here with her sister and friends. She probably made friends easy too--she'd gotten him to talk about New York and Pennsylvania, like he wouldn't dismiss every topic as pointless otherwise. "I just mean, you're not going to make it living on the fringe." He isn't either, and he's surprised to want to.