<div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="background-color:#353535; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;">Hannah stared, fascinated. He was like a child, a very cautious one. Was 'stranger danger' a thing on other planets, too?<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF80BF">"I still don't know what to call you,"</span> she said, taking a bite of her own cookie, holding it over her cup so as to not crumble it all over her couch. When you couldn't have Nice, you at the very least could have Clean, that was her philosophy. <span style="color: #FF80BF">"And I'm not even sure you really understand any of what I've been saying. You're probably just lonely and scared. Any port in a storm, right?"</span> She chuckled humorlessly, wracking her brain for a way to get him to say <span style="font-style: italic">anything</span>. Somehow, he would be less alien if he had a name and vocal cords. And if she were completely honest with herself, now that a rainy walk home and a cup of tea had begun to help her sober up, she had an alien in her house. An actual extraterrestrial, and she had no idea for how long or if it were all some sort of practical joke, or a fever dream, or something she was imagining in a hospital bed in an coma. Hannah gulped and forced the rest of the cookie down, then pointed at herself.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF80BF">"I'm Hannah. Hannah. That's my name, Hannah. What about you?"</span> She pointed at the 'man' in front of her. Could you still consider what looked to be male aliens 'men'? Was that a humans-only term?</div></div>