[ They progress onward while he thinks. At least, he does, not sparing a glance to check that she's following, an attempt at politeness. Allowing her privacy. ]

Edward, like I said. I'm from Gotham, New Jersey, and I'm an accountant. [ He realizes with some embarrassment how little there really is to tell, at least without going deeper into the events of the last two years than he ever plans to. He searches for more, something more substantial. He debates leaving the absence of family unaddressed, but it couldn't be any more uncomfortable than her decapitation mention. ] I live alone, I was raised in an orphanage. I haven't heard of any bizarre diseases, our troubles are more...man-made.

[ It's tempting to linger on that, but he can't imagine it makes a dent in whatever the hell she's talking about. ]