He's asking a lot of questions, questions that Trixie doesn't have the answers to. She doesn't know what she wants; she's never really had to be alone before. Best she can reckon is that time she lived in the shitbox hotel with the wall cut out so she could sneak into Saul's bedroom without being seen by the public.

She takes her own cup of tea and looks around for somewhere to sit, but decides maybe standing a bit longer's better for her frozen feet.

"Anywhere's fine," she admits, struggling to find an answer that doesn't sound stupid. "Don't need a big place. Figuring a small cabin up the road's fine, so long as it ain't got too many holes in the roof. Just...thinking that once I'm on my own I'm on my own, so I should be picky."