Aching for normality. For an hour where he could forget he was in a frozen wasteland instead of Miami with it's sun and it's beaches and the random Mexican or Cuban music that wafted through the air with the smell of salt and sea to match it. A moment of freedom, from worry and responsibilities beyond what wrangling people that might not react to losing well might cost him.

"Around two months," he answers truthfully with a glance and nod around Milton.

"And I half expected this place to have some sort of.. I dunno - potluck, monthly bonfire, hell I'd take a barn raisin', but somethin' that let people step outta all this. Disappointed that there wasn't. Cards've been around for so long for a reason - most everyone's got some form of it. Figured it would be some common ground."