He's making a face at you, but the smile's still there. "I kind of suck at lying and I don't like it anyway, so." It's clearly habit the way he fishes out his cigarette case and the gunmetal-gray Zippo that looks like it's seen better days. "But yes. I'm not sure how young you are, but for awhile back there America wasn't exactly the safest place for supernaturals like us. Did you ever catch any news about Taskforce Valkyrie before it got reformed?"

It's still a work-in-progress, truth be told, but the people in charge now have their hearts in the right place.

"Anyway," he goes on, as he toys with that lighter. "I hightailed it out of there because I figured that it would be safer for my sister Cindy and my dad if I kept as far from them as possible." It's the bare bones of his story, but he won't overload you with information. It'll give you both something to talk about next time.

"Hid out in Canada for about six years before I found myself flown over here." He slips out a stick. "Hey, would it be okay with you if I smoked? I'm going to get coffee in a bit, but I'll sit here and watch your stuff while you go hit the buffet."