Apart from the years that separate their realities from one another, the things that Iggy notes don't seem too far off. Of course, the little he's shared only barely scratches the surface. Maybe something did change somewhere in that timeline. Could've just been the election of a political leader or a major corporation changing their business practices. Just enough to throw the world as he's come to anticipate it completely off kilter.

Truthfully, Wrench supposes it wouldn't matter much for him anyway. But he still regards Iggy like he's not quite sure he can believe that the world of the other man's origin is so straightforward.

I'm from Minnesota. 2016. No magic either.

If he seems a little dubious at all of that, Wrench goes downright wary at the man's next words. The nature of his interests are mostly, he thinks, as much of a mystery as the rest of his life before he came to this place. It's all bundled in the same package and labeled "Things We Don't Talk About." It's not because he's particularly ashamed, but because admitting to someone that he actually likes something feels a bit like laying all his cards on the table.

Not that I don't appreciate the irony of your offer. I take you to pray to a God, and you... Well. Wrench pauses there and swallows a mouthful of air in a sort of uncertain reverse-laugh.

We can call this one on the house. You just got here.