The more Slick spoke, the more he really did sound like something out of an early 19th century novel about outer space. Clones? Galaxies? The nature of his predicament, while rather unfathomable given the context of the life she'd come from was unmistakably dire, and the concerned look on her face spoke volumes.

"What did you have to do?" Certain that it would make about as much sense as the talk of his hundreds of thousands of brothers, and the Republic, she still wanted to give him the space to talk if he needed to. Based on her observations, he seemed like he could do with talking out what he'd gone through.

"Are you hungry? I've got a flattened bag of crisps I can repair for you, they're sealed, but I'm afraid they spent the night at the bottom of the lake." Along with her, and the rest of her possessions.