It should come as reassuring that a substantial number of folks have come from Earth, though it's clear that most of them are different versions thereof. They range anywhere from hyper-technological with galaxy-spanning wars to the backwater, post-nuclear fallout wasteland he hails from. Len tries not to overthink the logistics of varying or contradictory timelines. It doesn't do anybody good to mull on that.

"They call it Revan, so no, it ain't Earth," he breaks the news simply, unraveling the first few inches of a clean strip of gauze from his satchel. Len gestures for the stranger to remove his hand for bandaging purposes.

"But that is where I'm from, and plenty of other people, so you're in good company. You ever heard of the Mojave?"