[The "emptiness" is what appeals to Evelyn, a wide expanse of blank slate pockmarked with the occasional Bedouin well, salt-cracked earth and rock formations, dunes made of sand so fine it could be powdered sugar. Afternoons are scorching and the nights are cold, with no foliage to break the winds and nothing but sky.

The desert is purifying.]

You have no idea, [she mumbles over her clipboard again, leaning against one of the workbenches, before looking up and amending herself.] ...I mean, you...you probably do, obviously, you're the one digging it out of small spaces with dental equipment. Thank God for rubber keyboard mats, or nothing would work.

[Watching him carefully Evelyn chews on the end of a mechanical pencil - it's one thing to postulate about the origins of an employee, but another thing entirely to ask. Presumably he handed some paperwork over to the foreman that she can pick up later for perusal. Something about him screams city boy.]

What brought you out here, Mr. Decker? If you don't mind my asking.