"...Oh." She lowers her head. Though when she thinks about it, that doesn't mean she's wrong. She can't remember...a lot of things, so many she doesn't know how many, like who he is (might be) or how she might have known him.

She wants to press, but he's shaking (he wasn't afraid of her then - if it was him). Maybe now isn't the best time. Later, she promises herself. Later she'll work out who the people were who sat with her, and why she remembers them and nothing about them.

"Then it's nice to meet you. I'm a typewrriterr. An explorring typewrriterr." She smiles as unscarily as she can.