He plays well, and sings well, and it shouldn't be such a relief when he stops, but it is. Greta twists her hands together self-consciously, wondering if he noticed her discomfort and whether she should be grateful or just mortified if he did. He doesn't mention it, though. In fact, he changes the subject completely.

"Oh?" She hasn't really thought about going anywhere but back home. If she did, she'd imagine the rest of the country to be a similarly bewildering landscape of pavement and towers and too many people, no better or worse than the island they're trapped on, now - at least not as far as she's concerned. "Where would you go?"