"Well, yeah," he says uncertainly, shrugging, not sure what to do with her awe. It seems so natural to him. "I mean there's all kinds of places. Aliens, angels - I mean Godzilla showed up once in Manhattan but that was, uh, kind of a one-time thing. And also not real." Super unimportant detail, Johnny, good job. "It's hard to explain."

Finally he breaches the treeline and gets them back out to the beach. Much better. He likes it open, where people are less likely to be hiding and watching him. He turns and faces her again.

"My world, it was 1999, and then I got yanked into the future, and now here I am, dreaming, with a talking rabbit." He shrugs again. "C'est la fuckin vie."