"Hm. Weird," he mumbles, both thoughtful and suspicious as he files that info away somewhere like he's collecting details about this place until he can shape them into something. "Not the insulin, but like... this place obviously knows a shitton about us. And at least sort of isn't interested in killing us. But also they're not so advanced or benevolent that they'd cure you. Or like. At least figure out how to administer insulin without a jab."

He shrugs when he's not sure anyone cares but him.

"Beer's good. But if I'm going to drink I want something higher octane. I don't suppose they did a lot of Jägerbombs in the roaring twenties though... How old are you? Like twenty two?"