She'd said something, he knew, but her words were masked by the pop and hiss of another pod nearby. His downward look to her was concerned; he was well familiar with that expression--he'd seen Nyssa wear it more often than not, when something would remind her of Traken.

He held his tongue rather than asking her to repeat, however, having learned when it was wise to let it be, if nothing else, over his travels with friends. It was beginning to hit home to him that not every story behind those accompanying him here was an idyllic one.

"The circumstances do seem foreboding, don't they?" he mused, his gaze wandering up the pathway. "And yet the only urgency is in the message given by the ship, who in and of herself is benign. There are no guards here, no sustained procedure, aside from the guiding environment itself. Time doesn't flow here as it's meant to, but it isn't completely hindered, either. Very strange..."