"Oh. Manhattan?" he queried, not sure what island she could be referring to really. And why was she looking him like that? Like he was a wounded stray she'd found at the shelter.
He humored her for a moment, smiling sort of sadly as she spoke and tried to convince him of her deluded fantasy. He had met a lot of people like her, so absorbed in their parlor screens that they became quite convinced of its authenticity. But those people... those people tended not to make such fervent eye-contact, they tended not to reach out for any human contact, they didn't touch and communicate like this. He didn't pull away, although part of him thought that maybe he should.
"You're... here without your consent, but you enjoy that? Listen to yourself. They've got you right where they want you. Passive, compliant... come on, it's just..." he took her hand and moved closer to the window, lifting her hand with his so they could tap the glass together. "A screen, see?" he insisted. "What do you mean, exit?" he asked with a bit of a sigh.