That assertion is so bonkers he has to repeat it. "You evolved from octopuses." He gives her a look as he says it, somewhere between baffled and disbelieving. But she moves past it and he's willing to follow her lead. It's much easier on his tired brain to focus on something familiar, at least right now.

He blows out a breath. "Spa car," he murmurs. He sets the joint down delicately, freeing up both hands to pull up the crude map of the train he's been assembling. (Right now it's just a stack of photos he snapped with his Interface's camera, in the correct order.) He scrolls down the stack with a motion of his fingers and makes an annoyed noise. "That's almost all the way back to the sleeper carriages, isn't it?"