That's good, because I'm much to shitty at knitting for her to die any time soon. My Godbrands all look kind of like potatoes.

[ He just watches the light, then looks around. He isn't used to the scenery yet, largely because a lot of his time in the city has been spent either stuck in someone's basement or on what was meant to be bed rest except for his inability to remain in a bed or to rest meaningfully.

Everything is- really, honestly, much too big. Nothing in Europe was ever built for cars, all tiny streets. It's a constant reminder that he really doesn't belong here. ]

You practically need the five minutes to get to the other side of the road.