Ah. Divorced. That answer almost makes her regret teasing him, if only because he seems the sort where that kind of thing could be a tender spot for years after the fact. That's a can of worms that doesn't need opening. Not here, on the street — not sober, for another thing, and definitely not with someone she's only just met. The last thing she needs is to feel sorry for him. Or to feel anymore sorry for him than she already does.

"That's one way of thinking about it," she responds noncommittally, after a moment. "Is there somewhere I can take you? Assigned housing?" A twinge of wryness then: "A bar?"