And it wasn’t the most heartening or encouraging to hear — although a hostile environment and a literally toxic atmosphere had been par for the course back home, but at least Reyes had been able to take the edge off with alcohol back then. He sighed again and stalked back out from behind the bar, finding one of the wooden chairs and flopping into it. The bar had been the last thing left in this front room for him to examine; he’d already obsessively pored over that village census and list of volunteers (declining to add himself to the list just yet) and the catalogue of events, trying to understand as much as possible about this mysterious place.

“Another new face, then,” he said, finally introducing himself. “I’m also wet behind the ears — literally! — if you weren’t able to tell. Reyes.”