Head snapping up at the question, Harold had to give a moment's pause, looking into the water and fiddling with the hem of his shirt.


"Nowhere," he stated simply. It wasn't an answer, he knew, so he tried again, in a lighter tone. "Well, New Jersey. 2009. Which is fucking- nowhere. Nowhen."

He tugged at a loose thread and watched it unravel, detaching the hem. It was Hikaru's old shirt.

"What about you? I know neither of us got on that ship by exactly conventional means, man, but I kinda forgot to ask. Sorry."