He was still thinking about FDR, about how this was going to be a time before he saw him again. It was what he hated about this job, this part of his life. He had to leave FDR behind. He wondered how long it would be until he got back. Not knowing, that was the hardest. "I think something harder because this shit goes to my head and makes me pass the hell out. I've got limited time and I'm not wasting that."

He paused, realizing what he was saying. "Listen, I may sound creepy but I'm just kind of being a dick. I swear. No stalking. I wouldn't do that to you. Hell, I wouldn't do that to anyone. I like my privacy too," he admitted.

"I... I might be able to find time. Not sure," he admitted, not knowing the extent of the job. "I'll give you my number, you don't even have to give me yours," he said, thinking about what he'd just been saying about stalking. "Then it's all on you if you want to contact me."