"I oughta make you take me home right away." He balanced the pick handle on his collarbone, clumsy and restless. "But I got no home to go to at the moment. Mexico is out, for obvious reasons. I’m sure not going back home to Papa in Houston. Papa acts even stranger than you do, and those clinic people might be lookin’ for me there.... And anyway, there are possibilities in a setup like this. It’s stupid for me to stay here, but I think I might do okay for a while, if I can get everybody to mostly ignore me. Especially you." He turned away.