Hearing Abi talking about making roots rather than pining for home and fighting against her situation was a pleasing turn of events, but he decided that he wouldn't point it out. He simply nodded and agreed with her. "Yeah, there are plenty of them. I need to do the same," he admitted. At least she was accepting it a hell of a lot quicker than he had. It wasn't like him to be a recluse, it didn't suit him, at least not when he wasn't writing in the meantime.
It was rather refreshing when she disagreed with him, and it served as a happy reminder of Abi's personality. She wasn't the kind of girl who needed or wanted an excuse from a man. She wanted what she wanted and she didn't apologise for it. "I'm not going to lie, I'd probably still manage to find it pretty sexy," he admitted with a cheerful laugh. He was terribly easy, and she was incredibly attractive.
Ernest frowned a little, looking at her with great curiosity as she started to explain her view of writers - although she did get a smile from him when she complimented his appearance so easily in the middle of it. "Maybe... but hell, there are a lot of negatives to falling for a writer, you know? They're egomaniacs, moody, selfish..." he listed, wondering for a second if he was describing writers or just himself.
He had absolutely no idea what was going to make him write again, but after speaking to Abi, it was the first time he'd actually felt like trying in forever. That had to count for something. "Hmm. Well, something's gotta give," he murmured, regarding his own writing. Either he'd have to budge or writing would, and he got the feeling he was far too stubborn to let the bitch win really.
"Although the man-made parks and outdoor spaces are nice enough, I don't know that anywhere really feels like outdoors," he admitted, offering her an arm like the old-fashioned gent that he was. "I was going to say, it's as if an alien designed it based on images of the outside world without ever having been there, but then that might be exactly how it was designed."