Mobius wasn't much of a party person, and hearing how the the celebrations had gone, he decided that was very much something that remained true no matter where on the timeline he was currently existing. But that was over and done with, everyone seemed to have made it through mostly intact, and that was the best you could hope for some days.
Now though things were just dreary, but it was January, it was probably to be expected. It had been well he didn't know how long exactly since he'd been anywhere like this, at least for any length of time that truly mattered. Now though, all he had was time here, which was proving to be more and more disconcerting the longer he was here. But he'd tried to settle in, his room was now decorated with the strange gifts he'd gotten over the last month, an interesting collection of odds and ends, but it was more than he'd ever been able to claim was his own in a very long time.
The scooter though, that was interesting.
Not exactly a jet ski, not even close, if he was being honest. But there was something about wheeling around on it that was both harrowing, he wasn't a young man by any stretch of the imagination, but at the same time also a kind of freedom that was worth exploring further. Perhaps on something with a motor.
But small steps. For now he rolled down the hall, up toward the front of of Pickman, peering out the windows and into the gloom of the day before he turned going back the way he'd come. It really was the wrong season for such things, he knew it - and maybe all of this was less about riding the death trap he'd been gifted and more about gaining the notice of a particular someone.