"Not at all," Cameron says, though she is. It doesn't especially matter when he has nowhere to go, nowhere to be, a fact that still rankles, some time after his arrival. It isn't like he can't take a break, enjoy where he is when he's there; he's been on any number of vacations with his family to places equally as lovely, if more populated and better supplied. When he was so close to accomplishing so much, with a great deal more waiting in his future if he could just stick around to grab it, however, and on the heels of so many disappointments, to be in a place where he can neither seek retribution nor do anything to move forward is indescribably frustrating. That doesn't mean he has to take it out on her.

He has no desire to anyway. She looks so at ease. It's not an outward appearance he's sure he's managed yet, though he has, up until recently, gone through life looking perfectly in place virtually everywhere he goes. That self-assurance does little here, at least for him, and he can't help admiring — envying, at least — her calm. "If anything," he says, "I think I might be in yours."