There's no rush, you've plenty of time, unless you're eager to leave. [He didn't think there was an obligation to stay here, but Dorian did his best to remove himself from politics.] As for getting used to it...well, I deal with some strange and unusual things where I come from, not that it becomes less eerie, but there is coping and then there is going mad. You brought ale, I would say that's a good start, but I could offer you something better if you need it...that almost looks like it pains you to drink.

[And when Adam takes a moment to turn his gaze to the space rock, Dorian lets himself observe him closely, objectively, but still curious. His hands are tucked under his arms, presently folded across his chest, but they appear to be more metal than flesh. Prosthetics? Dorian has seen them, not quite like this, but they were made of hard light...or something to the effect. He was mystified and interested in technology because he knew nothing about it.]