Connor just desperately wished he could remember more. He knew he was lucky, retaining at least some solid memory of the place from the time he'd been before. He wasn't walking around with large gaps in his recollection of the place, or no knowledge at all. That didn't make it any easier to deal with the fact that some things still weren't coming together for him. How well had he known her? Or was it all from that silly period of time when they were just innocent six year-olds with no sense of keeping secrets?
Letting things go was something he was learning to do slowly. Not completely, of course. Connor was determined to stick the tiny details to memory this time around. He'd have sworn Ilyana had said her friend was Russian, like she and her brother. So why was 'home' Scotland? But he wasn't going to dwell. His friends and people he could trust here were few and far between, and he knew when people he did like didn't remember anything, he had to be more careful and start from scratch. So instead of hounding her with questions, he did what he did best. Making her smile was officially at the top of his list of things to do. "What the hell is crinoline?" he asked, picking up one of the huge, itchy skirts on his way towards the back. "Who could possibly find this comfortable?"
The choices for men's clothing were limited, but not impossible. Idly, he played with the skirt as he browsed, twirling it around, draping it over his head, and eventually dressing the sole male mannequin in it. "There, sir, that's much better. And in return..." He pulled the long-sleeved t-shirt the non-living male was wearing off and tossed it over his arm. "Good old fashioned bartering. Just like our ancestors," he teased in Ilyana's direction. Jeans were more important, of course, and an extra pair of shoes if he could find them. But, admittedly, it would make all the difference in the world between feeling clean and feeling filthy if he had a full change of clothes.