"A wood stove? Why? I'm sure we could-- we could build one," he offers, body language still nervous, rubbing his hands together in attempt at self-comfort, pacing about, generally being a worrier. Molly seems to always catch him in one of these moods.

"And I had wanted to tell everyone, see who might want to come along. There are so many people here who can do extraordinary things, you know. Oh, of course you know-- and I thought. There must be so many who wish to go home."

He wrings his shirt sleeves.

"This really is a-- an utter fuck-up."