[Writes a letter to Santa, maybe he can take care of it. Dear Santa, how do you feel about murdering a man? There are space cookies in it for you.]

Yeah, yeah... Bullshit, yeah. [Head docs, Mike had never given them a single thought back home. Then he got stuck here. Opinion quickly formed.]

I don't think everybody here's dangerous, though. I mean, everybody I've met has probably been dangerous, but... Somebody's gotta be... not dangerous. Whole lot of imPorts. And shitty powers.