"That's a nice idea, but it's not like I can go driving around. Expired license," she points out. Also it's in her purse, which is safely back in 1997. Still it's a nice gesture, and she doesn't disagree... if she sticks around. Which she might, she supposes, considering how little they've figured out so far.

The silence isn't as comfortable as it ought to be, the weight of missing decades heavy between them. She doesn't mind the lack of small talk, but it's frustrating not to have some lead on a solution for this. So she spends the ride half-listening to the radio, looking out the window.

"I have no idea what a good price is for anything," she warns him cheerily as they park.