Adelaide goes and sits down beside him. Some might want space at a time like this, but that isn't Adelaide. The situation never matters - good time or bad or indifferent, she only ever wants space from people who aren't her people, she only ever wants connections with those that are. Still, she takes it easy on him and refrains from sitting shoulder to shoulder. Just companionably nearby.
She nods at his answer, and happily goes about presuming the Skittles are for her when she picks up the bag and runs her fingertips over the red and white lettering, like it's a precious artifact from a lost world. Which, she supposes, it is.
"He ought to have known I wouldn't go back to Montgomery," she says, fiddling with the bag's edge, and looking out at their view, one of the best she has seen in ages and ages. It's dark, but her eyes have adjusted. "Oughta have known I'd come back to where he was. But I guess that's his thing now, not believing I care for him." She shrugs, so that maybe he won't feel pressured to answer that part. "Awful glad he got to you, though." Got to you, not 'glad you came' or anything like it, because they both would follow him anywhere, any time, without question, and they know it. It is only where she can't follow that ends up problematic. "Wouldn't be right without you."