"It's beautiful," Molly says, sitting down on the sofa beside him and then taking a sip of her beer. "I've lived in... well, the city part of the city so long that I'm not used to views like this anymore." She likes it where she is, but then, she'd probably feel that way anywhere. It's hard to be picky when this is all she's got. The same line of thought is what's brought her here, in a way. She could be sad and mope and miss her just-disappeared boyfriend, or she could go out and do something fun, make the most of the fact that she's still here. This is nice, too — a weak adjective, maybe, but a hell of a lot more comfortable than a hookup with someone she met earlier tonight easily could have been. She appreciates that.

"Which, I mean, it's fine, I don't mind it, but this is really something."