His energy is a little more awkward, like he hasn't gotten used to being in his own skin after seventeen years of existence. But his eyes definitely light up at her answer. After almost a year here, meeting someone so, for lack of a better word, normal is like recovering a piece of the world he's left behind. They might have been friends.

"Wilhelm," he returns. "Also 2020. Wrong side of the ocean, though. I'm from Sweden."

In the grand scheme of the universe and all its iterations, though, it's close enough. As if she's shared the right password, he tilts his head in an invitation to join him as he starts walking again. The earbuds he'd been listening to before get shuffled into his pocket.

"Any magic, werewolves, superheroes?"