"And who's to say they'd even notice?" Jenny adds, picking up on his line of thought easily. It's sensible, even if not one that occurred to her before now. "It'd almost be as if you were never there at all — except you would be somewhere." There are records, of course, housing and standard Council ones, but she hasn't bothered with any of that, mostly because it feels too strange to. These are such things she's never had to worry about before; sooner or later, she will, but for now, it's one part of adulthood that she has no problem putting on hold. There are enough empty rooms that she doubts it makes a difference that she's set up residence in one. She doesn't spend all that much time there as it is.

In a way, it's strange to think about. As it is, she spends too much time dwelling on how little she'd have back home, how many more opportunities being here affords her, but in a perspective like this, she's just as lacking on Tabula Rasa as she would have been had she never been transported here. She's just also without the history — the reputation, as it were — that she was all too willing to leave behind. "I don't, either. Really know anyone yet. Nothing before now, at least." Given the conversation itself, she has no reason to think she's being presumptuous. Just in talking about it, they seem to be changing that fact.