"Then we've got at least that in common," Philip said, taking delight in any commonality he managed to share with another. His gaze was briefly distracted by the streaking glow drawn back and forth across the floor beneath their feet as the flashlight as shifted idly from hand to hand behind Rylee's back, a catlike fascination in the eyes that followed the quickness of its motion along a haphazard path. If not for that act, Philip might have appeared as though he'd completely forgotten the oddity of their circumstances, completely at ease within the darkness that dominated the room and engaging in such typical small talk with a neighbour that one might have on any other occasion.
"You know, I think we folks who get to travel different places have it better than those who stay put. There's just so much out there to see and do, experience whole different cultures and new languages. It's something of an adventure, don't you think?" He mused. If as a child, he'd ever resented the shuffle of foster homes, that memory had long faded, stripping those experiences of any bitter emotion at being torn from family to family and rendered merely into a more pleasant, whirlwind recollection of constant novelty.