Obviously the doors weren't opening yet. Conversation wasn't his thing, but Riddick had just found an irony he felt like voicing. "Heh. I don't really know where anyone else is coming from." Or much care. "Fucking Star Wars isn't real, but there's a guy running around claiming he died on the damn Death Star. Still," he cracked his knuckles as he continued, "the shit I managed to pull hasn't been topped back home."

Home. That word had been unexpected. And he didn't like the idea of thinking that his own world might not be real to others here... not a thrilling concept at all. Though the anonymity was nice.