While he was wary of her, she didn't seem to be all that worried about him. If she was, she was doing a great job of hiding it. He doubted he looked like that much of a threat anyway. Sitting down on the bench again, he leaned forward, running his hands through his short hair. He felt the bench shift just slightly as she sat down beside him and turned his head enough that he could see her.
The position of weary resignation didn't last long as Connor sat up, leaning against the back of the bench as the woman spoke. Her explanation didn't leave much room for questions, at least not at the rate it was delivered. Not only was he just as confused as he had been before she started explaining, but he had more questions. People in his situation? An impressive set up for what it was?
Then it dawned on him what she meant, or at least what he thought she meant. "I'm not homeless," Connor said, holding up a hand. Not in the strictest sense of the word anyway. He and Murph couldn't go back to their place, not when most of Boston's law enforcement had an eye out for them. The neighbors probably wouldn't say a word but any detective with half a brain might know to keep an eye on the place.
"Somehow I managed to go from a bed to the bench." It was the how that he couldn't figure out. "All I need is to figure out where I am and I can find my way back." Which led him to the first question he'd asked after waking up. "Where is here anyway?"