The Balladeer leans forward, resting his arms on his knees and folding his hands together. His gaze is on the floor now, rather than her. This is making things he's always accepted sound a lot worse all of a sudden. "No, no family." And no friends, unless you consider his occasional friendly interactions with...well, mostly Guiteau. That guy's always genial, until you flip the wrong hidden switch.

As for home? "There's a..." He trails off, brow furrowed. How to put this? "There's somewhere else I can go. It's not really in time. But they can all get there too." He shrugs; the problems with that are obvious. "I stop and rest there sometimes, but it's not a home."