He’s thankful for the food when it’s given to him - not even caring whether the taste is good or bad - he’s had worse. He’s quiet, polite, watchful - trying to take in as much as he can about his surroundings as possible.

The people here seem cut off from the rest of the galaxy, and he suspects there is little luck of finding a ship to take him off planet without help. Whatever the ‘beacons’ are, the technology to travel to other worlds seems limited to them, and seems far more advanced than the other tech they have here.

He takes one of the cooling suits gratefully - not that he hasn’t had his share of warm climates, but there’s a difference between warmth and the dry heat that’s taking all the moisture from his skin.

He carefully strips out of his clothes, making sure to pull anything necessary out of his outerwear and replace it as close to his skin as he could as he pulled on the suit. Once he figured out the safest way to keep them he would shift tack again, but for now a little discomfort as worth knowing that the few things he still had on him wouldn’t ‘accidentally’ disappear. That said, the suits were still surprisingly tight, and he was forced to sheepishly approach the nearest onlooker.

“A little help?” Gesturing to the near skin-tight closure up his spine that he couldn’t reach to do up. “My flexibility’s not what it used to be.”