His silence, Nancy realizes, is extremely frustrating, but she won't fight it. Instead, she shoves her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket, and keeps walking until they reach her corner.

"Just right up here," she promises, turning left down a side-street. "it's not the greatest place, but it's mine, and I got a great deal on the place from a terrible man." Thanks, Fagin. Regardless, it was her home.

They approached the dark green door, and Nancy started to climb the few stairs to the entrance. "D'you want to come up for a drink? It's polite to ask. No one's there and I generally have a bottle before bed." Yes, you heard that. Bottle. of wine.

But if he wanted to go home, no skin off of her nose.