Numbers inclines his head slightly to indicate for her to enter the house. When she does, he closes the door behind him and strolls into the living room. It occurs to him that he's never actually had the experience of having people over--first, because he hasn't actually owned a house before, and second, because the only time he really lived in this kind of suburban normalcy was when he was a child. Once he was introduced to the world of crime, he was always on the move with Wrench, only staying long enough to wrap up business and return to Fargo for the next job.

The house is a bit of a mess, given that Numbers is the only person living here. Crusty bowls, plates, and half-filled cups are scattered about on any available surface. He regards Helly, smile still plastered across his face. He doesn't sit. He just stands in the middle of the living room, waiting for her to make a move.

"So," Numbers starts, "you'll have to forgive me, but I don't actually have any cookies for you. But I assume you aren't knocking on people's doors just to spread out holiday cheer."