“Pod people.” Gabe is on a bus stop bench. More accurately, Gabe is laying down on a street bench, his tan shoulder bag acting as a pillow. His legs are crossed at the ankle, and really, he shouldn't be but he's giving the stranger a grin. She looks irritated and huffy and a bit like Natalie when their mom ignores her. That's probably why he's so amused, especially as he notices her fists. Maybe not.

She looks like she could kick Gabe's ass, honestly. It's interesting. Gabe makes no sign to move, but he does extend his arm to point at her. “That's my theory,” He explains. The truth is that he has no idea what's going on and didn't quite care. It's hard to notice about this stuff when he can feel things, now. Sun on his arms. The metal of the bench. He's not even waiting for a bus, though he would hop on and go nowhere just for the sake of it.

It's odd, not being with his mother. Strange. It's like a part of him is gone, now. He's half of a whole. It's liberating, being out here, but foreign. People acknowledge him. He can acknowledge people. Like the redhead.

He lifts is brow.

“I don't get it, either.”