"You know you implicate me in that broad sweeping statement, right?" He narrowed his eyes at her then grinned. "Nah, not actually. I'm not a citizen. Of anywhere. Can't be a citizen if you've never counted as a person." A bittersweet smile crossed his lips. "Actually, I don't even have a birth certificate." Aside from the forgeries that he'd acquired along the way. Talking about those in public probably wasn't the best idea, though, so he chose to keep mum about them. Actually, the whole conversation was probably a bit sensitive, but humans weren't particularly observant. He was going to be bold and assume that they were okay.
It stood to reason that she wouldn't know what an automat was. Chuckling softly, he ran his hand down over his face. "Automat. I think it's short for 'automatic,' but I can't say I know the history all that well. There's one that's restored and pretty fantastic. They used to be all over the city. They're these little restaurants where you go in and the walls are full of these little doors that have food behind them. You insert your money in the slot by the foods you want to take and pull them out hot and ready to eat then take them to a table and polish them off. It's good if you're on the go or want something a little different. Used to be cheap. Can't say it is now. Also, we have to get you acquainted with the best street vendors." The last bit he tacked on as an afterthought, though it really was an important point. Street food was the soul of NYC in his biased opinion.
"I'll teach you to hit. More important, I'll teach you to defend. That way you can get away from anyone that might decide you're someone worth messing with. We don't need to make you into a cage fighter, just a girl who's capable of keeping herself safe in a sticky situation. Self-defense. Not fighting. Big difference. I know the former, not the latter so well. And both took a long time for me to learn since I spent most of my life just taking whatever came my way."
As their coffee and cake arrived, Oren crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back a bit. He smiled at the waitress and Cordelia in turn, quietly voicing his thanks with a nod of his head. He dumped sugar and a few creams into his coffee, capable of drinking it any way but preferring it light and sweet. After a sip to make sure it was fixed to his liking, he cut into his cheescake, taking a deep breath. "I'm going to wait to have this bite," he wagged his fork a little, "until you've tasted it. Mostly because I want to see the look on your face."