[ Andyr glances up to him, seeing the quiet smile he wears, studying his face for a moment. all the differences there, between him and alva and nick. alva, more than nick. nick has some kind of glint to him - something brash, energetic, devious. steve's too close to that sort of open kindness and earnest care that alva carries, but he lacks the shadow under his eyes, the wrinkles around his eyes. that look of being just tired. not in the same way alva is. and there's so much else there in steve that speaks volumes. difficult for andyr to really put his finger on, as of yet. ]

Big city, right? Lots of lights, concrete. There was a big park once, right? [ there's no parks in new orleans anymore. maybe small patches of grass, where the wards with the kind of civic funding have dug up layer after layer after layer of steel and concrete and stuck in some grass. maybe astro turf. a couple trees. no real parks, not in the city.

he'd like to see new york, Andyr thinks, as he leans to flop back on the rock behind him, laying out with the container of muffins set somewhere between them. steve's new york, that isn't so ruined as the split territories and over populated nations are now. it's a nice thought, but how likely is it? ] You figure we'll crash land in your Atlantic next?