“Who…” I begin, then clear my throat, which has gone bone-dry. “Who are you?” There’s a beat of silence, cut through only by the crackle of the open channel. “My name is Dorian Gray.” What the hell? “That’s an Earth name,” I manage. “I picked it from one of the books in your welcome package.” “Oh. Of course.” As if it’s normal, a standard thing. Of course he did. Of course he dug through the entire library of Earth’s works and landed on Oscar Wilde.
