He blinks at her terms, thinking that his grasp on English cannot be so steady if he is to be confounded so often by what Faith has to say. Or perhaps he's simply that drunk that he cannot comprehend it. He follows after a pause, staring at the building before him and thinking that it is suitable for him.

"It reminds me of my own home with its dilapidated charm, but I doubt it has half as many liquors," he says, almost fondly and missing such things. The liquors, that is, and not the home.