Croix looked momentarily confused, then perhaps a little bit wary. “Pastalia... in Metafalss.” He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re from...” he trailed off. His tone wasn’t accusatory, at least.

Devon, though, was still worried. It wasn’t like he could think of any way of talking them out of this. Hell, even telling the truth would likely get them signed up for about fifty different kinds of brain scans once they got to the hospital. He glanced at Sefton briefly, then shook his head. “Probably not?” he offered.