He's easy to fluster, and he's always hated the indiscriminate nature of that reaction - but especially so without his helmet. If there's anything that piece of junk is good for, it's for hiding the way he too easily wears his heart on his sleeve; hiding behind his hair and feigning new interest in the city street as he's shamed into silence again by that irritating laugh just doesn't cut it. Hardly the same.

Edge doesn't ring any bells, either, but by now he's decided simply to take everything she says with a grain of salt. (He's sure, somehow already, that that's probably the only way to cope with this new and initially unpleasant kind of person.) The sight of Midgar is another matter.

For a second, he almost thinks- Almost sees the city skyline lying in fractured ruin over the horizon, close enough to run toward and never reach. But then his own memory superimposes easily over the sight, and there are lights and towers and the highways cut through the darker wastes spread out around the base (the slums).

"Oh. Yeah." A new settlement, then, perhaps. He wouldn't have any reason to know about that. "I've only seen it a couple of times."