In the terms of this brave new world in which they were living, Noah had been at the Garden safehouse close to forever. Two years was a long damn time, and he'd also met his share of people there. At least, up until there'd been so many survivors in the place that sometimes it seemed that he rarely saw a familiar face anymore. This place was much preferable for its smaller population, if nothing else.
"Couple weeks," he replied to her first question. Now that the dog had laid off jumping on him, he continued his stretches, never liking to stop a cool-down before he was completely done. He had his rituals for exercise, feeling that staying in shape was more important than it had ever been before. Who knew when you might have to run?
Noah wasn't the sort to stand on ceremony, and there was very little she could have asked him that he'd consider inappropriate. He was an open book in most ways. "The Garden was getting way too crowded," he said with a slight shrug. "When there's that many people, there's a lot more potential for trouble. Thought I'd try my luck here. How long you been here?"