[he hums in agreement as he takes his drink back. he uses it to gesture to her, first, a mock-toast in gratitude, then turns it towards the door, before pulling it back, taking another sip. when he lowers it again, he tells her:] That lighthouse out in the lake? I was there, before. [before he ended up here. before the world fell apart. before the drugs he may or may not be on, because at least that would make sense kicked in. pick one]

There wasn't an arcade in it, but the power being out's familiar, at least. [ ... if he brought the lighthouse here, did he do that, too? did the blackout in Chicago follow him? no. no, that's ridiculous, and he hums a little, almost laughing, before he puts it out of mind, his lips twitching upwards as it goes. clearly, the not-alcohol's definitely doing its job]