Ruth can't decide if that's disappointing. If they knew who'd lived here before...but at the same time, being locked up with long-dead bodies wouldn't improve this experience.

Her hand curls around the edge of the frame, the wood smooth under her fingers, her knuckles brushing against the strange glass of the mirror.

"Wouldn't be sanitary. No." It's tired, but there's a sliver of humor cutting into the words. Sort of. She tells herself not to reach out in search of details he hasn't told her, some history or future for the metal counters she assumes are all around her. "Are you? Pardon. Okay."