"I'm lookin', Spaceman," and now he's keeping the nickname just to tick Crichton off because it's funny. "And all I'm getting right now is that Hell's a lot classier than I would've figured for a guy who sure as shit wasn't going to the other place. I heard stories about the boats my folks came in on and they weren't anywhere near as nice as this."

He puts his drink down so he can reach into his jacket, and pull out his communicator from the inside pocket. "Though if you're the expert on all that H.G Wells bullshit, mind explaining to a poor detective what exactly I'm looking at, here?"