He didn't speak again until they were on safe ground. The area around him looked normal enough, even if he was still pretty jumpy and ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. He'd just put all of his trust in a girl who claimed to be his sister who he'd only just met. And he'd just nearly died. After being attacked, no less. He was pretty sure he was allowed to be a bit on edge.
"No..." he began, finally looking at her once his eyes had focused on their surroundings. "No, we... Mom died. When I was fourteen. When I went back I had to try and hide that from her. Grandpa made me tell her...it was awful. So...she lives? I have no idea why the changes I made did that but...I'm just...really glad they did." Chris was having trouble putting words together, but he was starting to smile. Oh, it was slow. He was tired and still a little achy in general though he was, overall, completely healed. Mostly it was psychosomatic. But he was definitely smiling at her.
"So, three years, huh?" he asked, somewhat teasing. "So you really are the pesky little sister. Tell me, do we break your toys? Tear Barbie's head off? Always wanted a sister to make miserable." Actually, he'd always wanted a sibling to help fend off Wyatt, but he did what he had to, even if it was alone. And then, eventually, with Bianca.
He could tell by looking around that they hadn't gone far. Apparently hell had at least decided to drop him near his new home. It looked pretty normal, too. Not really where he thought he'd be bunkering down on the eve of the Apocalypse. "How long have you been here?" he asked, studying the place with a judgmental eye.