He can't tell if he's in her past or if she's in her future-- it almost feels like there's no time here at all. But it doesn't matter. A hundred years between them is still freaky either way.

Slouching a bit, he sticks his hands in his jeans pockets.

"Oh, horses still exist an' all, but there ain't no use for 'em in the city. We got cars and buses and subways to get around. There's ponies at the petting zoo, though. I never rode one, but my little sister did."

He awkwardly holds out a hand. (The jury's still out on whether or not this particular girl has cooties.)

"I'm Tommy-- um. Thomas Gavin."

...He has no idea why he just offered up his given name. Usually only the nuns at school require it.