Mars? Good God, this girl should not be going to Mars. Not that she's a child or anything, of course, but, well - it is a rather scandalous place. Though he supposes if she grew up on Earth, that would be the closest exotic place - but what's all this about not being an astronaut, and...NASA, and...

He rubs his forehead. He's starting to feel as though he's developing a headache. Which is good, because it'll be conducive to feigning a hangover later, but...He feels like this whole thing is spinning wildly out of control. Who is she, where is she from, what is going on...

"Not...exactly," he admits, and clears his throat. "Komarr, Beta Colony - through Escobar space - Jackson's Whole." Jackson's Whole more than the others. The sorts he ran with and ratted out had a fondness for that place. He didn't. He was generally, after all, the member of the group who was responsible for finding drugs, alcohol, and sex for the others. And as a man of some hidden moral character, he always did prefer to find sex that was cheerful and willing and receiving proper health care and good wages from their agencies. Beta Colony's business models, in his opinion, were just so much more charming than the Whole's. He hesitates, then ventures, feeling decidedly disoriented, "Are you at least familiar with those names?"