"Yeah." This subject is kind of depressing, he thinks, but buddy here wouldn't have brought it up unless it were weighing on his mind—and it must be, given how he looked just now. Poor guy. Since Fish likes to be accommodating when he can, he'll go along with it. It's an innocent enough question, anyway, and he doesn't seem bothered to discuss it. "Well, not a whole ton of them, but... my parents, my brother. Cousins and stuff. And some friends."

He's looking down at his shoe, now, and performing an incredibly clichéd gesture while doing it, too: the toe of said shoe gently pokes and scuffs at the ground. "It's kinda hard without them. But it's like...better, in a way, since they're not here. I dunno if my mom could handle this place." Thinking about his mother is actually incredibly painful, but one wouldn't necessarily know it to look at him; he's got that deadpan down pat.

"How 'bout you?"