"No more, then. But later? I want you to distract me lots." The transporter beckoned. Jack was surprised at how much he missed Cullen House. When he'd first gone to live there, in the throes of a murderous madness, it had been hateful and frightening and lost and lonesome. Somehow along the way, it had gained (and lost) other occupants. Somehow it had become home, with a tiny bitty small "h", of course.

Seven? Seven was like a shrine. Like a shrine filled with gods and idols that a living mortal man dare not disturb. There he must be quiet and stealthy and cautious. He is reminded of past occupants whom he misses still. And he has a hard time thinking of it as Home for these reasons.

But her bed is soft. Her window is unlocked to him. He can make her waffles there. It's alright. Going to be alright.