[San Francisco two decades in his future is the strangest blend of the California he knows and a world utterly alien to him. If it wasn't for the hints of the Spanish colonial past and the occasional palm tree, he could have believed he was somewhere else entirely.

By the time he comes back, his curiosity isn't fully satisfied, but the wandering felt good anyway. He barely understands the city any better, but it felt good to get out. Feels good to walk in the door with a bag full of treasures, too, mostly shoplifted or snatched when he could get away with it, bought only when he had to. The eighties are just too damn expensive.

He grins as he looks her up and down.]

Damn, babe. You're gonna be the hottest thing in the dance club tonight. Those chicks out there on the streets got nothin' on you right now.

[As for her question though, he goes to upend the bag on the bed. Boxes of pop tarts only make up a small part of it - mostly it's goodies from glove boxes, and things utterly mysterious to him too. More than a few cassette tapes are in there mixed in with a modest amount of cash, jewelry, and pills he's never heard of but that might be wanted by the right people.]

Not nearly enough trouble goin' on during the day, but I guess there's still plenty of people in your time who leave shit wide open for the taking. You know any of these?

[He grabs a few of the tapes and brings them over. Madonna, Sting, and a group called Wham!, punctuation included, which makes him grin.]