In honesty, she hadn't realized he would want that reassurance, especially after confirming that she's not one of his people -- and therefore not a candidate for that type of regard. Especially not being sure why he'd be uncertain if she was all right in the first place. She continues on, unaware.

"Strange to meet a human?"

His statement provokes a moment of quiet. When, exactly, did she get so used to humans? At some point it's gotten more natural to see them than to see her own kind -- and more anxiety-provoking to see her own kind than to see them.

It really should be the other way around. But it isn't.

She's not sure what to feel about that.

"I was in another world like this before," she says at last. "Most of the people around me were humans like this. They also came from all different worlds. I guess . . . it seems less strange now."

And before that . . . well, that goes unsaid.

"I don't know why there were -- are -- a lot of them in both places."

Maybe humans had an overall higher rate of getting dragged off into other worlds against their will.