Dan turned his attention from the street to the stars for a moment, letting the cool night breeze tousle his hair and carry away the cigarette smoke. Aster's predicted future saddens him, and he can't really see much of a way out of it. He's already in over his head trying to make sense of leases and rentals and property rights.

It hits him hard, the idea of this family home being taken out of Aster's hands to be developed by "progress." He brings a knee up to his chest and wraps his arm around it as he sits, tapping ash away from the cigarette.

"Well, I'm good at reading folks' intentions, so maybe I can keep an eye out for renters for you. I don't want to be rooming with Goluboy's spies either." He sighs out smoke. "My home got took away when I was a teenager. It- it'd hurt my heart to see that happen with yours. I didn't never get over it all the way."

That's an understatement. He feels like that part of his life, that home, was a limb that was violently amputated, and now he's a cripple feeling phantom pains that never go away. That, he thinks, is what started him on the road to where he is now, restless and addicted and chewing his hands all the time, stressed and sad.