They lift their head to look at him and they have an absolutely delirious smile on their face. "It's ridiculous," they say, knowing that they're overreacting but not quite knowing how to stop it. "We always called it Hell on Earth, but it turns out Hell treats its citizens better than we do. Isn't that funny?"

They laugh, and they look desperately up at him, and they don't actually seem to be crying. And since he seems to have no clue what they're talking about, they do finally deign to explain a little bit about it. "Back home, if you need health care, you're paying for everything. The ambulance ride, the emergency room stay, the room you stay in, medicine, food and water if they can get away with it. And it doesn't matter if you have insurance because they'll just deny everything and make you pay it anyway." It's unsustainable, but it has been for a while.

"That's why I get my meds on—" they pause, wondering if they should admit this, and then remember the entire conversation leading to this point. "On the grey market. The medicine is safe but it's not prescribed. If you're saying I can just walk into a hospital and not walk out in crippling debt... that would be life-changing."