The question catches him off guard, and a short huff of surprise escapes as his brows raise. “You really did just get here, didn’t you,” he states because there’s no sense expecting or needing an answer to the obvious. His arms unfold, and he runs his hand—the good one—through his hair as he nods idly. “There shoulda been a map on your communicator. Points to the house you’ve been assigned. Some of my old stuff was in mine.”

His hand reaches into his pocket to dig his out, the smartphone looking device that wasn’t connected to anything but an internal network. Ultimately not too useful, but a nice paperweight at least. “I’ll show you on mine, but we probably shouldn’t stand around. That was a public post and all.” The “unless you want other people finding us” is implied.