"There's some clothes available downstairs too," Noah said with a nod. "Something better suited to the blizzard outside." He smiled wryly. It was amazing to be back in his comfortable room after the three days they'd been through in prison cells, enough so that he didn't even mind the perpetual snow.
He idly scrubbed the fingers of one hand through his hair and smirked at her first question. "I think I'm a decent neighbor," he said. "Try to be, anyway." There were days when he didn't end up talking to anyone else, but he was always willing to.
A sigh escaped him at the next thing she said. "Everyone I've talked to has a different story. Doesn't matter where you are, who you are... it seems random." Supposedly it wasn't, but Noah wasn't sure how much he believed of the claim they were all taken for a particular reason. "I was in New York, takin' out the trash outside my shop. Then boom. It's been a little over three months, best I can figure."