( Twin, she says, and an unhappy look of understanding slowly spreads across his features. He's seen it happen here — people, faces he recognizes if not personally then at least from media. Never even occurred to him that his might be floating around out there to other people, aside from maybe that god damn ridiculous Supernatural television show in that one crappy, crappy universe where he's an actor. )

There's a douchebag soldier where you're from that looks like me and wants to take you out.

( Just to spell that conclusion out in exact words so she knows he understands — it's a statement this time, not a question. Message finally received, if maybe he's a little bit off about the context of that soldier part.

Okay, yeah, the jumping off a wagon and peacing the hell out thing makes sense. The look he shoots her is more empathetic, faintly apologetic, mostly serious. )

Okay, well, for what it's worth... I hunt monsters. I help people. Whatever that guy's deal is... he isn't me, and I got dibs on all this.

( Vague... gesture to his own face. )

He can go eat a bag of dicks.