"Um..." Iman turns to him, midway through opening her apartment door. She chews her lip, stepping inside and again holding it open for him. There's an obvious desperation to the question, though she can't guess at why - some people have things they're glad to escape, others have separation anxiety. A lot of people have both. The fact that she's not sure how to answer only makes it more tricky.

"Not always," she says carefully. "There are some people from the same universes. But it's very randomized. And I don't know how common that is."

She moves her groceries to the kitchenette counter and turns to face him.

"The most practical thing you can do is to prepare yourself for the possibility that you'll be alone here," she says, as delicately as you can say something like that. "That sounds awful, but..." She trails off, keeping her eyes on him.