So... Steven is thinking of something like a theme park, but with themes like a medieval setting or something instead of a stretch of road that looks like a movie set filled with rides and shops to the left and right with nightly fireworks shows. And manned by robotic hosts? That's what she called herself.

He clutches onto his own elbows and lowers his gaze, feeling a little violated just talking about this. He must have had a fair number of things happen to himself when Marc was in control of their body. It just makes his insides twist and churn thinking about it.

"M'sorry to hear that," he says quietly, gently. "They're charming in their own way. Men of action. I've lived with one for-- a while." That can be exhausting at times, and not solely because of the action. Sometimes it's really difficult to be with Marc, watch him do the things he does to himself. He's a troubled man. Perhaps many men of action are troubled, in their own way. And they do have a nasty habit of getting themselves killed. You hardly have that problem with men of intellect, unless they're reading War and Peace while jaywalking in front of a bus.

"What was his name? Did you meet-- at work?" Steven ventures gingerly. If she doesn't want to talk about him he can clumsily but somewhat easily change the subject and start nattering on about something else.