Ephrim looks at the stranger levelly, then turns his attention back up to the stars, restraining the urge to snort. He doesn't feel like being raked over the coals for disrespect. (He does feel annoyed about the repetition, but it wasn't what he found absurd.)

"I've read of them. These eaters of stars, of worlds, of light." Neutral. Not particularly urgent. "Was that the extent of your familiarity with the stars in your plane? A matter of location and number?"