Adelaide follows his nod, as his bashful denial of having ever made purposeful use of his firing neurons makes her lips curve for just a moment. The pretense he makes doesn't bother her, they both know full well she's aware of his brain and that he often uses it - unless he thinks she's forgotten.
"Or on nights like this," she says, while they start to take the steep steps toward the spot he pointed out. "To think selectively at most." She feels worlds better, being out here, with him, with the distraction of a new place and movement, but she knows if she lets herself dwell again that frustrated helplessness will well up and drown her all over. She's too grateful for his help right now to allow that to happen, and so she follows him, across the flat of the former pool, and doesn't let herself think of all that.
Instead she wonders suddenly about him. As he stops and spreads the blanket - in just the spot she would have picked herself, actually - Adelaide crosses her arms over herself and knows maybe he won't like the questions, but she's got to think about something, doesn't she?
She shuffles her foot over the dusty earth while he sets up. "You been with Jims this whole time?" she asks. She'd assumed he had, but then, she doesn't even know what happened to Sarge once he recovered and got out of the hospital. Not knowing a part of his history is strange to her.