[Pickles loses interest in what Demyx is doing with his beer while he concentrates on his own, pulling the bottle opener off the magnetic strip hanging by the oven and cracking it open with a suctioned pop. The cap clatters into the sink.]

Not at all. [He presses the small of his back against the oven and sips his beer.] But y'know, s' not that big of a deal. I mean, either way I'm movin' somewhere in this city, right? I figure I'll just get outta here an' then pick a spot--or whatever. Who cares.