It's strange to be thinking that far ahead. Since arriving in Darrow, Gleb hasn't been able to do so, too caught up in trying to make sense of the present to consider the future, even one that's only a few months off. Chances are, if the past two months are any indication, that time will pass far more quickly than it currently seems like it will. Even so, there's a moment where it feels odd to be trying to make any plans at all, as if there's anywhere either of the two of them could go from here. People vanish, he's heard, and not the way that people back home would, where everyone knew what that really meant. That's such an abstract concept, though, that he hasn't thought about it applying to them. Maybe it's just that it's hard to believe that she could want that — some nebulous time spent together when the weather turns warmer. She's here now, though, and he's already told her the worst thing about himself that he possibly could, the one that's the likeliest to send her running. He's not sure what it means that she's still here, but he's grateful for it.

"Yes," he agrees, as if he could do anything else, his smile widening just a touch as he sees her starting to do the same in turn. "I suppose we will." The boardwalk is all closed down now, only a handful of shops open year-round, but the structures all still stand. It's easy to imagine how beautiful she would look, illuminated by the colored lights, but he tries to set the thought of that aside quickly. The present is far more important, even if he has to bury a faint disappointment that they're nearing her building. At least the discomfort from moments ago has subsided, leaving them to end the evening on what he hopes is a nice note. "Something to look forward to, perhaps?"