"Noted. Grab a seat wherever." Sofas, chairs, bar stools near the kitchen butting up against the counter. He's not much of a cook but it's good enough for coffee, toast, and chili. Fridge full of beer, coffee pot that's an old drip model. Hot water, strong grounds, a little sugar for him as he whistles softly under his breath. There are little holographic images he's set out. Recreations of memories or things he's snapped here. Not many just yet but-

He's building a life. The only life he will ever have.

The coffemaker gurgles and he sets out two mugs, settled in the minutiae of domesticity.