James doesn't open any doors. He picks up an apple that's sitting in a fruit bowl on the counter, pulls himself up to sit on it and kicks his heels into the cupboard underneath. He watches Quentin without speaking, idling the fruit between his fingers, not eating it.

'You dress funny,' he says eventually, because while it's clear that people come here from all different places, he hasn't worked out how, or what it means.

'Where are you from?'