She can't decide what's more upsetting: the fact that her worst guess was correct, or how genuinely confused he looks by her question - as if there's nothing wrong with doing literally nothing but jump through time and space and provide musical accompaniment to murders. It wouldn't have struck her as the worst job in the world, but that's presuming he has a life outside of it. And he's really making it sound as if he doesn't.

"You don't have family?" she presses, albeit gently. "Friends? A--a home you can go to when you're not doing this sort of thing?"