Trychon felt as though a tendril had brushed against the back of his neck as the stranger spoke.
At a loss for what else to do, he decided to be forthcoming. He wasn't really prepared for this. He felt uncomfortable holding the weapon... he considered putting it back, then he considered turning it on.
He held still.
After a moment he managed to speak.
"I am searching... though I don't know for what. Nor is this my home."
He wondered if he'd regret those words.
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