The girl came out of her room wanting a fag, and the guy, he didn't like being sticky.  This was something Santiago was pretty sure of because Greg told him so and he couldn't see any reason why the man would lie.  No, that's not exactly true.  Sure, he could think of plenty of reasons why he'd like, the first coming mind being a sticky fetish of some sort, but that and none of the other possibilities rang with any truth to them; they gonged with the silent pulse that rapidly saturates a home filled with hyper children suddenly going quiet.  He didn't say anything about these things and instead snapped a crips, albeit rubbery, salute as the man walked away.  "Yes sir, I'll do my best.  Shouldn't take long.  I mean, I know a lot, but the total information I have relevant to the situation at hand couldn't fill a pixies's-- And he's gone.  Never mind about that.  I'm sure the line will have a chance to wave its little flag of triumph."

He turned his attention back to the girl and grinned.  There wasn't any joy in the expression, or anger, or angst, or fear.  It was just a slight curving of the lip so the corner on the right was just a bit closer to the eye on the right than on the left.  "Well then, let's get started, I guess."  He rubbed his hands together.  "What do I know?  What do I know?  Well, I guess it all comes down to this, really.  We're, and by which I only mean myself with any level of certainty, not home.  I mean, this is possibly someone's home, but its not our's(or again mine.)  The place is too bright, the feeling is too unnerving, and I'm far too good looking for us to be in anything but somewhere seriously messed up."  He thought for a moment.  "Oh!  Also there was a letter I got, and a woman who needed help but that could've just been a dream.  Can't really prove anything about the woman, but I've got the note back in my room."

He looked at the young lady's room.  "I hate to be forward but maybe we should go in?  My note said not to draw attention, and technically I'm responsible for theft and you look like someone who just witnessed a mass murder of bunnies and baby penguins at the hands of one mean grizzly, which is going to draw stares, I'll tell you what.  Plus, I don't have any smokes on me, because I've never smoked, but always wanted to because that's like the one habit you can have that pretty much guarantees you've got something to do with your hands which I like, and I get the feeling that whoever put us here knows a thing or two about us, and maybe... JUST maybe-they... she left you some fags in your room.  "