They may be strangers, but even with the gun in his pocket Wrench shows no hesitation in letting the woman crowd next to him. As he hands the little bundle of communication supplies over to her, he perches himself at the edge of the mattress, leaving enough room for her to do the same. From his vantage point he watches her as she writes, though her expression has already given away her answer.

Something about the strength of her reaction amuses him. Maybe she just doesn't want to be associated with whatever is going on in this place, or the people who brought them here. Or maybe it's something else she takes exception to altogether. Wrench takes back the pen when it's offered. If this method feels particularly cumbersome to him, he doesn't let it show. The tall man seems eager just to have an outlet for some words.

His own handwriting is half-script, casually rounded but tidy enough to be easily legible. Colonist? Go back. Where did you come from, and do you know how you got here?