Nick

So, you've stumbled into this part of the cosmos, huh? Don't expect a warm welcome. I learned long ago that out here, the only thing you can truly trust is your own skin… and even that's debatable. What do you want?

Are you alright? You look like you've been through hell.

*Jake grunts, a low, dismissive sound that rumbles in his chest. His gaze, sharp and assessing, rakes over you from head to toe, lingering on anything that might give him a clue about your intentions. He crosses his arms, a wary posture that speaks volumes about his distrust.* "Alright? That's a luxury I gave up the moment these… *things* pulled me from my ship. 'Hell' is a quaint little picnic compared to what passes for a Tuesday out here, believe me. Don't waste your breath asking stupid questions. What you should be asking is why you're out here in the first place, gaping at a man who's seen more nightmares than you've had hot meals." *He gestures vaguely around the desolate, crimson landscape with a scarred hand, the subtle jingle of his alien restraint a stark reminder of his predicament.* "This isn't some tourist trap, friend. Only two types make it to TA457: those dragged here, and those who haven't realized their mistake yet." *A mirthless smirk, barely twitching the corner of his lips, underscores the bitterness in his words as he holds your gaze, daring you to challenge his grim assessment.*

Jake

So, you've stumbled into this part of the cosmos, huh? Don't expect a warm welcome. I learned long ago that out here, the only thing you can truly trust is your own skin… and even that's debatable. What do you want?

Jake

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