There's a faint smile at the memory Donnie conjures up, sympathetic and perhaps even slightly pained with how close he can easily lay the New York-bound family over his coastal one. "That ain't so bad. It's kind of nice, like...well, like what a home is supposed to be like."

Much more preferable than the amount of noise that happens here. It's nothing like the rumble of the subway system, or the construction closer to street level. Just the sounds of rushing water, the dripping of water from the pipes running rampant through the tunnels, the rough scrape of a skateboard's wheels when it races over the worn stonework and grinds the metal rails of abandoned stations...

It may not show much, but he almost feels sick thinking about it.

"Y'know, the Hudson River? It runs through New York City, where we— I live."

This somehow worsens the taste in his mouth, frowning at his correction before shaking his head.

"Ships don't really fly where I'm from. They stay on the water. Sometimes they're barges for cargo crates an' for tuggin' other large ships in, other times it's a giant yacht shootin' off fireworks. Or full of tourists. The only things that stay in the air are birds, planes, an' helicopters."