He watches Soldat shoo at nothing - normal enough now, somehow, terribly - and then lights up a new cigarette and indulges in that for a moment.

"Snails," he repeats as he twists the top of his lantern back into place, then cradles the whole lantern in his lap to keep it away from the hands that reach to steal it away. "I've heard you guys don't have them on Earth, or not like ours, anyway. They're telepathic and light-sensitive so we have them rigged up to tech to use as phones, or cameras, or other things." Projectors, signal jammers, call interception, the list goes on. Useful little creatures, snails.

"I had one with me when I got here, but it came through dead, somehow. Ended up burying it." Rest in peace, little guy.