"Well," he begins, swirling the whiskey in the rocks glass to aerate it, "Whatever you'd like to tell me, but I guess the real elephant in the room is your trip through multiple universes. How has that happened, precisely?"

From his pocket he pulls a little notepad - if Zoey is eagle-eyed, she'll notice it seems to be less a research book and more his personal jotter. Some of the notes on it are formulae, some are grocery lists, and others still are bizarre lines of jumbled words, written in a blocky, mechanical handwriting.

He turns to a fresh page, smiling, and pulls a pen from his pocket.

"And I promise, anything you want to stay between us, does. I am well versed in discretion."