[He gives Kevin a beady look and inhales from his cigarette again. He doesn't mind hearing it. The kid even seems like he needs to blow off steam a little, or at least let some seep out.]

Eh. [Dixon makes a waggling motion with his hand.] Depends on what's a lot. I been keeping a list and it's getting kind of long.

[He rummages around in the ladies' backpack he scavenged from the clothing store and pulls out a comic book - the inside page, where the promo for other franchises and letters to the editor sections meet, are covered in names or crude descriptions. The handwriting is quite clear and neat, but it's pretty obvious Dixon's spelling and intuition for syllables is five shades of atrocious and that he doesn't have a ton of respect stockpiled for half the people here - a few of the people without names are things like "fat space guy" (Loken) and "person of color" (Anita, with those three words underlined and 'the black girl' crossed out underneath it). There are little check marks next to each name.]

I was checking people off every night, but now I just do it if they stay here the week. Seems like whatever's jerking our chain is still trying to sort out who belongs here and who don't.