He's where? She stares at him for a moment, trying to imagine a universe where New York is, y'know... livable. As opposed to one big toxic kali nightmare-inducing Bad Spot. "I'm in New Arcadia," she says, assuming that he's from the same universe as she is and would recognize the name. It's pretty high on the Post-Wars list of places to live by virtue of the fact that it's mostly still there and its residents are mostly still sane.

And he's really the only were? That... can't be easy. "I suppose you wouldn't even have the suppressors," she guesses, feeling sorry for him on that count alone.

Also, for the record, this conversation has taken a turn for the seriously bizarre. The whole 'there are other universes' thing is an idea she can almost get behind (though the idea of them being habitable is a stretch), or could, if she was really thinking about it. She is deliberately not really thinking about it. It's weird enough just talking openly about were-related stuff with an actual were, which sort of feels like the conversational equivalent of spilling coffee all over someone else and yourself. And then, surprise, they're sort of okay with it.