He nodded. "Yeah, there was my wife, Christina, and our daughter, April. I worked in human resources, back in the day; it was a government job, though I was certainly no politician." He smirked at the thought. "I earned a decent living. We had a little house in the suburbs. It was...pink. I'd disagreed on the color, but Christina had been stubborn and insisted upon it; imagine me, Kaye, living in a pink house with a white roof because, well, it happened." He smiled at the thought, laughing softly as the memories resurfaced. "She kept it so warm, though, and full of life. Sometimes, I'd come home late and she'd be waiting up for me. I'd come inside, all exhausted and frustrated with my boss, but there'd she be with a bottle of wine and a smile." He sighed, leaning his head against the tin wall of one of the buildings. "God, she was beautiful. And mean. Oh, she could be mean when she wanted to be--never hesitated to share her opinion on a subject. Then again, she was right the vast majority of the time and just made me out to be the big idiot that I really am. She'd fold her arms over her chest--like, like this," he continued, trying to imitate her, "And quirk one eyebrow up--pretend that I have eyebrows--and it'd be like in those sitcoms, where the husband did something really stupid that the wife specifically told him not to do. Probably where she got it from, actually."