"I wish I'd gone." Busan - everywhere on Earth - seems like a missed opportunity, now. The furthest south he'd gotten for purposes beyond fleeing the country, well...

"I like the beach here." Creekside is close enough that he feels coastal, even through he's not right on the water; any closer and he'd worry about fog tsunamis, or something, but he feels better when he's close enough for government work. He can't blame that one on claustrophobia - even as a child, he preferred port cities. A product of growing up in two.

"Where did-" he's about to ask where he went, if he missed Busan before Baedal and was working as a translator, but his CiD beeps at him. "Sorry," he says, flashing Sunny an apologetic look before sitting up to get a better look at it and reply to a few messages - work-related, or he wouldn't bother.