A spare key? He's lucky to have a key with how this place seems to be run. He's pretty sure rooms with physical keys have been out of style in his neck of the woods for decades, and while he's had an apartment long enough to know better, it hasn't been a smooth transition into life here in Panorama.

Foggy sighs and says, "Go for it," as he backs away. He can vaguely tell where this young woman stands, but still feels as if he's grappling with a void all his own. Back against the wall, now opposite his door and next to Laura's, he crosses his arms and lets his head dip. His toe taps gently and he decides to make conversation while his neighbor takes care of the issue he caused.

"I figured there was something wrong with the lock because the key only works about a third of the time. Pretty sure maintenance tickets in this place are so backed up, I'll be long gone before anyone comes along to fix it." A pause. He's uncharacteristically nervous, like asking this feels like a bad idea. They're all at risk out here, aren't they? "I'm from somewhere else. New York," he tells her, tentative in his approach in case she's one of the people around who are quick to sneer at the get-to-know-you attempts. "What about you?"