Marga chuckled a little as she nodded. "Modesty's becoming somewhat of a foreign concept, for sure," she said, and found herself wishing she had the gall to set up a tent somewhere in one of the larger safehouses. Likely someone else would come along and claim it, though. She never had been all that great at defending things that were rightfully hers.
"Oh wow, a painter," she gushed, having always admired people who had a talent for the arts. "I hope you still get opportunities to exercise your talents." She grinned when he remarked about being a terrible French cliche. "That doesn't sound so terrible to me."
"I imagine it brings some people together, while others are of a mind that they need to shut off all ties with new and old relationships. If it really is the end of the world? I'd rather not endure it alone." She smiled a touch sadly.
The makeshift mess hall looked as though it were more organized than that of other places she'd visited, yet with all the newcomers it did still look busy. Marga fiddled distractedly with the strap on her rifle. "It looks a little busy. I can wait, though. It's okay."