"Natalie," she returns, and takes a sip of her vodka. "Rushman. Can't say I'm feeling much like I belong."

The beads on the table are a collection of every colour offered, all of them shoved at her on her way outside. Someone began to explain them, but she'd been more interested in finding out where she was and how she could get back home. But she notes how Dean's fingers push them around. "Don't tell me you want more," she says, looking at his own proudly worn collection.