[The city feels a lot bigger to her than it probably actually is. Perspective makes it so, because her world, despite how many memories of other lives she had access to, has always been so small. At its largest, it may as well have been only a few rooms put together and a handful of people, and the rest of the universe, though she recognized its vastness and the responsibilities she had to it, may as well have existed only in theory. It really is good for her to work somewhere that she can see more new and familiar faces every day, somewhere she can meet people without pressure or undue stress.]

[That, and she does make a darn good latte. To be told as much, though, seems to catch her pleasantly off-guard, and she tucks her chin slightly, smiling.]

Does it? I'm glad. I don't drink them, myself.

[No caffeine addiction for her - unless it gets absorbed through her skin. (She's going to smell like coffee for a while now, she suspects.) And truthfully, she trusts him to keep mum about her... situation. Enough so that she doesn't naturally think to ask him to, because she's sufficiently comfortable in her assessment of him to presume that they've something of an understanding; she'll not go telling on him, either.]

But I guess it is lucky, this time. [Or she feels awfully lucky, anyway, and that's not a common experience for her.] I was afraid I was the only one here who came from our worlds and still-- [Now she sobers a little further.] -- still remembered everything.

[For a given value of 'everything'. The more she learns, the more she begins to wonder.]