"No, not really," he agreed, trying to mull over all of this new information in his brain. Just what kind of apartment building had he and his sister moved into? And, just to add a cherry on top, how weird was the timing that Dad decided to show back up? Max dispelled that particular train of thought, barring it from the tracks currently running about crazily in his mind. It was enough to worry about what had happened to the prior tenants - and though he liked Fiona and enjoyed her company, he had to wonder a bit at her inability to remember people's faces and names.
She was definitely handy in a video game, with great reaction time, and more than once he'd suspected her of just maybe using a cheat code or two. And then there was her appearance, her clothes. She didn't really seem like the kind of person who'd let details slide. Not like Max, at least, who was sloppily dressed in a shirt that was decorated with what looked like his dinner from the night before, and jeans he'd worn five days in a row. Not that anyone could tell. So what exactly was going on here?
As soon as he was certain that the car was no longer going to be in motion, Max gently pried his hands free of the seat cushion and made a slow, exacting move to release his seat belt. The bright glow of the interior of Trader Joe's beckoned, and for some reason seemed like a whole other world to itself; though perhaps he should apply that to Pax, as though he was stepping into a different dimension each time he walked into the lobby.
"Were you around for the power outage a few weeks ago? Does that kind of stuff happen often?" He switched tack, still within the topic at hand, but trying to put things together more clearly. After all, there wasn't anything to be worried about...right?