Phil smiles as he opens the door, though the expression is thin. He hasn't been sleeping. "That was quick. Come on in. We can talk on the couch."

One side of the room is relatively untouched; Rosalind's leftover scraps of engineering projects sit piled neatly in a corner, dusty and still. The rest is significantly more lived-in.

He crosses his legs and his arms once he takes a seat at the corner of the couch. Sighing, he grumbles, "You'd think it'd be easier by the fourth time. Sec, how's time travel fare where you're from?"