"Seventy years later." he admits, relaxing when she visibly lets her guard down. Falling back into step beside her, his hands slip into his pockets again as he watches an errant pebble skitter as it connects with the toe of his boot. He focuses on kicking the pebble along the path as they walk and he talks.

"Slept through the turn of the century, bunch of presidents...hemlines skyrocketing." He huffs a little with grim laughter at that and a little shake of his head. "Can't say I mind that one too much. Or the...public conversation about guys and gals that, uh--prefer their own. Glad I woke up to find all that 'don't ask, don't tell' garbage done with. I knew a few boys in basic that might have even lived to see the day they could get hitched. Hope so, anyway."