Ellie paused to consider the question. "Medical... Stuff. Tools. Books -- information." She had her own pack, which she adjusted briefly at the thought of, and shook her head. "As long as you've got some room in there, I think we'll be all right. I don't have anything but my machete."
She'd stashed everything else in an old janitor's closet in the basement for now. It had felt funny to finally empty her backpack -- like settling, making a choice. She'd been at the public library for about a month now; the last time she'd spent so long in one place had been years ago.
Ellie was happy to hear that Brennan was a native. It certainly made life now interesting, to see what time had done to the city; it was fascinating, in a way, to see nature reclaim it inch by inch.
"An NYU building," she added, nearly forgetting that he'd had a question. "I used to do research there. It's not far."
It was sort of far. But far was subjective, of course. Now Eloise was almost starting to feel excited -- or some ghost of excitement, a tiny vibration of happiness -- to get going. She had no idea what they'd see, or even what might be left after so long, but she had a lot of hope that it would turn out well.