"I won't take it the wrong way."  Santiago said, walking slowly behind Greg.  "I didn't know there was anyway you could take a statement other than as a bit of air your exhaled a certain way to make a certain sound that your brain recognizes as a certain message.  How interesting.  I'm learning stuff all the time.  I guess the fortune cookie was right.  Ha!  That's two pounds that Britash man owes me!  Oh wait."  A shadow fell over Santiago's face.  "He's back over..." He looked around.  "Whichever way home is."  He twirled his finger in a circle just to make sure he got the general direction.  
	
He stopped talking when Greg entered the room and peaked around the man's shoulders.  "I take some exception to that young(er) man."  He said pointing at the contents inside without getting any closer.  "The place isn't destroyed.  There are still walls without holes around it, a floor beneath it, and if you look straight up your eyes won't sear in their sockets because of the lack of sunlight pouring in because of the roof still being a roof instead of a pile of... A pile of...  a heap of was-roof!"  He nodded and put his hands on his hips, a trait he'd gotten from his mother who did it every time she was right.  "Er...  Maybe it isn't my room"  He said scratching his nose.  "Check the closet for jeans.  The room I showed up in had lots of jeans so I knew it wasn't mine as I never wear the bloody things."