[ There isn't, he shakes his head. Peculiar, but maybe too much effort for their captor to go through with fabricating. Another shake of the head follows her suggestion. ]

Whoever or whatever did this, it had to be intentional. Crafted. Either it'd go to nothing or just draw a lot of attention, a lot of extra trouble. [ And maybe there's a tinge of personal bias to this, but even with his impartial hat on it feels too easy. ] We'll have to go outside eventually anyway, we'd probably be better off risking a car.

[ Pointedly not theirs. Easy to cut the brakes and wait, but they probably hadn't gone to such trouble for every vehicle on the block.

He turns the radio on and is greeted similarly to the television: again with the weather, and then straight into a tune he can't identify, but as expected fits the reconstructed time period. Were he not a victim, really, he'd admire the amount of work that's gone into this. But he is, and the radio is silenced with a decisive click. He rakes a hand through his hair, down his face. ]

I might go back to the bedroom, go through all the drawers, closet. The little stuff.