Fancy people have lawns. I might have a doormat if you're lucky. [Although, she's probably welcome to stay on his doormat as long as she wants.

If he's scouted out her perimeter already - no, that's not a euphemism for anything - it doesn't show. He follows her directions and seems to be watching the people they pass by with an unhealthy amount of wariness before he looks back at her again.]

My therapist says I should get out more. [He has acquired lifelong bad habits that are near impossible to break, but at least she's trying, and he's begrudgingly taking life advice from a stranger who thinks she knows better.] Do you even trust people bringing you things?