The world swings a little as she walks, but not in unmanageable way, or even an unrecognisable normal way, even if it might not be normal as such to most of the world, and at least it's on the inside and not the outside. Not like the smile that tugs at her mouth when he really is just following along behind her, for walking out of that place and out into the night, black, faint chill of another of the million parking lots of the world.

"So are we walking or -- ?"