"That's quite a poetic statement for such a small ship." He stood to shake her hand, chuckling a little, but what he said was true; there was a significance to her words that he couldn't place exactly, something that maybe didn't have a thing to do with what she'd smoked earlier. It was a strange thought and so he shoved it away, breaking their handshake as well.
"I'm honored to be of service, madam. If you ever need a master ship builder again, you know where to find me. But next time we should use something a little more stable than McDonalds' fries." He grinned and lifted the can of coke, tilting it in a mock salute. With a last glance at the pile of ashes upon the front step he turned to go, pausing to say his goodbyes. "I'll leave you to contemplate the deeper mysteries. Don't forget to go inside eventually, yeah? Wouldn't want you to leave your Fabio book behind. Something like that is far too inspirational to lose. I'll see you around!"
Still chuckling to himself, Idris went back inside the building, crossing the lobby to grab his box of Wheat Thins (whatever was left would suit him; Karate Cop was on TV tonight and he was in the mood for a terribly bad movie) and the plastic bag he'd carried them in--he'd recycle it later. There were worse ways to meet a neighbor, he supposed, the elevator taking him upstairs and his feet leading him the rest of the way into his home. He had a feeling he'd be running into Lucy again eventually, and that wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing. If anything, building a french fry ship with someone that'd been a total stranger was nothing but a stroke of spontaneous genius.
Whoever found the ashes in the morning would have a hell of a time trying to figure out where they had originated.