Whitefish River Red Bull and minivans

He's silent a few beats, taking in the other's words. It sounds vaguely like something Aditya would have said, he thinks — or maybe his memory of the man has been muddled by time. The thought is enough to dull the suspicious edge to his gaze, though it brings with it a twinge of grief. He tries not to wonder where he might be now; there are more pressing things to wonder about. Needed? He questions uncertainly, reluctant to cut into the brief silence he'd allowed to settle between them. Safe, he can understand — but he can't remember a time in his life when he'd felt needed, and he can't imagine how anyone could need him. If Evergreen could offer him that... perhaps he could stay here.