She puts a lot of faith in an inanimate object's ability to judge what's best for patrons too diverse to really comprehend, but he keeps his opinion to himself, following along with a measured, ground-covering stride. And he's pretty sure they didn't say where they were from at all, but that's not anywhere in his tone or face, either, when he replies. "Maine. Town called Haven."

A moment's consideration, and he adds: "2009."

There's a longer pause, as he mulls over her last comment, face scrunching thoughtfully.

Fresh-water squid. In a lake that smells both like a lake and like a sun-warm sea. Trimmed by impossible woods, hosting demon...bunnies.










"Good to know."