Avery would never have put it that way, but all kinds of fucked was an excellent way to describe this situation. A situation he'd signed up for, so he had no one to blame but himself. His brow furrowed when she said bff, because he'd never heard that term and wasn't sure what exactly she was talking about. Asking didn't seem like a great idea, because she was very sharp, probably both in terms of intelligence and in being sharp-tongued. He always felt he needed to navigate very carefully with people who were very different from himself, too.
He drank from his glass of soda, thinking that maybe caffeine would help him with this conversation. Maybe not, but it might give him a mental boost, at least. He realized how pathetic it was that he had to work this hard just to talk to somebody, but he kept hoping he'd improve. He'd better, since he was going to be here for a long time.
Avery was surprised into a smile when she told him he sounded like a hick, because well, he was one. He'd grown up in a backwater Louisiana town, with the swamps as a backyard. "Guess I am a hick," he said mildly. "Cypremort, Louisiana's where I'm from. It's just about not on the map." He shrugged, then remembered she couldn't see him. Genius. "I can't tell where you're from just by listenin' to you," he added.