"Which might make things harder on you," he said, just as she was thinking the same thing. It didn't mean he was going to leave, of course - just now he really didn't have anywhere to go, but where she was wrong was that there might not be much else for him here, but she was here and at the moment, she was all he had. She was a real, living, breathing link to his past, to something good that he wanted to find again. And that was a better start than he'd ever imagined he'd have.

And just to prove it, seemingly, she went on, listing off a number of possibilities - something for him to do, somewhere for him to stay, and he couldn't help but smile down at her a little. "Well... I wouldn't want to take your place. Maybe I could get hired on my own merit - it doesn't take a memory to clean or carry things, right?" If they could use a janitor, or an orderly... besides, he sort of liked the idea of working with her, not instead of her. "And I really wouldn't want to impose on your dad... but maybe if your uncle could use help... I don't need a lot of space. I don't have much." All that had been left in his room were some books and the typewriter, add to that his seabag and those were about all he owned in the world.

He couldn't say that this was how he thought this life might be, when he came home - but then, he really had no idea what he had wanted his life to be, and a job and a place to stay (that wasn't with his parents) was nothing to scoff at. "You really think that could all work out?"