[Iris didn't have much trouble following his flow of words on the journals, and he was even easier to understand in person. Even so, it took her a second to realize that he was answering his own questions, too. Part of her mind wanted him to slow down so that she could argue more, find a place in the rush of words to say her goodbyes, but there wasn't a place for it.] They act it out onstage. You can usually follow. [Not that she had much practical experience with it. She'd watched a few on public television, but had never been to see one. His smile made her falter, blink.
And then more questions, almost covering up his idea of hiding in another room, one without a world attached. But first:] Bread baking. I don't. A machine full of records where you put in money and press the button to play the song of your choice. [She blinked again and shook her head, barely even realizing that she'd forgotten herself enough to look up at him as she spoke, to meet his gaze when it came back around to her.] I can't hide with you. I have to go back. I didn't mean to...