[Having had enough of the view, he looks back around in time to catch Dorian– well, "observing" is the objective word for it, though Adam would be more likely to call it "staring." If this had been a few months ago, he'd probably have said something about it (more like growled something about it, really) but he's grown a little more accustomed to the looks since then.

Besides, it's different here. Everyone's a curiosity now, he supposes.]

That's– very kind of you. [And his (almost imperceptibly) deepening frown suggests that the next word out of his mouth is going to be "but…"

But what? It feels like it's been ages since he's had a conversation that didn't have some larger purpose behind it, with someone that he wasn't trying to drag answers out of. Since the attacks, Adam had always dreaded small talk, assuming (rightly, in most cases) that it'd end up drifting towards the inevitable but how do you deal with it conversation. And always the looks he'd get– pitying, fearful, sometimes outright hateful. It'd been more than enough to put him off the whole human interaction thing for a good while.

...No reason it has to be that way here, though. And he won't find out if it is until he tries.

Adam lets out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, eventually nodding his assent.] Why not? I obviously don't have an eye for what the good brands around here are. [He rubs the back of his neck. Can an asteroid stare?] Besides, I think the view's lost its charm.