The response isn't a guess; Wrench knows that much for sure. It's too precise, and even without the benefit of emotion the network manages to strip off the handwritten words, he can tell there's something that lingers in the man's explanation. In Wrench's experience, things change fast for a fresh body, and then begin to peel away in slow, translucent layers. (Metaphorically, that is.) There comes a time when the difference between months should be barely discernible, shouldn't it? So either this man knows more about bodies than the average layperson, or he knows more about what's happened here than Wrench is anticipating.

It gives him reason to pause, and to consider. Wrench looks from the nearby words to the stranger. For a moment his gaze seems penetrating. Defiant, almost, though Jayden hasn't issued a challenge. And then the mention of the ring snaps his attention around again, and Wrench exhales. No one he's ever known has worn a ring like that. It sets aside any lingering doubts in his mind about what this place is meant to represent and what's been burped up here. If this is the work of another rift, it hasn't spit out one of his. At least, this one isn't one of them.

Wrench crouches by the remnants and nods.

What's the plan for the bodies? Anyone know? They won't return them to the families in this shape, will they?