It was eerie, watching the other man return to himself from behind his glasses. Sorta made him want to jerk them off his face, retreat for his own good. Sort of. He stuck by his scruples. Saving a man's child (if an unwanted one), saving a fellow crew member, saving someone he saw as a homeless little boy. Hell. Tretij was probably the only home he ever knew.

"I don't think I could do your voice. Not even on my best day. Funny how it doesn't work two ways."

Besides, he liked to wear shirts with his trenchcoats.

"How did that man die?" Now he was curious. He doubted that he did it, not if he was dead for a few days. But... well... when else would you have the chance to find out what happened after you died.