He can only shake his head. What must the ugly little thing be thinking? Maybe it's imprinted on her like a baby duck. Maybe it just thinks she might have food. As for himself, well. Rifts, Earth? This is his business now. Not that there'd been any risk of it not being, but that really seals it. He supposes he doesn't have much room to judge the little hand-foot creature. "Why can't I be a human expert in human architecture? That would let me rule all this out," he says querulously, gesturing to their surroundings. "What makes you so sure any rift you find will lead back to Earth?" He can't help but notice, none of that was actually a name, but honestly he's just feeling very lenient on that front these days. "I didn't come from Earth." And she really doesn't want to wind up where he did come from, he doesn't say.

So they're from disparate places, likely disparate times for what it's worth, pulled into a ruined alien (to both of them) city. He scruffs the ugly hopper like a kitten, and hopes the effectiveness of the technique is universal. A quick sonic scan tells him the creature isn't any more a local than they are. And that tells him...nothing, really. "I hope the name doesn't prove too apt. We might all be something's idea of takeaway."