As Rus Livingston, he had no idea what to do. He wasn’t human, and he didn’t know how humans worked, so the societal pressures and norms were lost on him. He didn’t like that thing that rang on and on so he destroyed it, and he didn’t know what to do with the green paper, so he ate it. When the woman came to him, talking about paying rent, he could only nod and close the door in her face; unsure of what she was talking about.

When you show up, it’s only worse, because you proceed to scream at him about not answering a ‘phone’ and ignoring your ‘text messages.’ “Please, I do not know what you’re talking about. The ringing thing— it was annoying.” That only seems to make things worse, but he doesn’t know what to do or say. Everyone told him to never tell anybody what he was— that being a Martian —and so he couldn’t tell you that.

“Rus Michael Livingston, so help me God. You’ve ignored me for days! What the hell were you thinking?!” You snap at him, making his face twist up in discomfort. He was certain that what you were was Rus’ friend girl, or mate.

“I am sorry, I was… busy, yes! With work!” Shapesmith knows you think he’s lying, but it’s only a partial lie, and those were okay to tell (according to Samson).

“Ugh. I’m just… happy you’re okay. This place is a mess.” You don’t even question him, shaking your head as you start to pick up the trash that he left behind. “Mrs. Fry says you’re not paying your rent; what’s that about?”

Shapesmith doesn’t know how to answer you— he doesn’t know what rent is or why he has to pay it —so he merely shrugs. He wonders if he’s supposed to do something; humans and their mates were always so strange.