"The ears, huh?" Saturday has a sinking feeling that she knows where this is going. "Well, we've never met aliens where I'm from, like I said. But, you know, different subspecies, so a lot of real different looking people. Trolls, orks, sapiens, dwarves, elves, bunch of everything else. Pixies are also a thing."

Her voice is getting increasingly clipped as she tries to do a lot of calculations at once: how much of a threat this guy could be, how reasonable he seems vs the risk of him being not reasonable on this specific subject, and whether or not she can twist the concept of a metahumanity into a configuration that will fit into his existing worldview in a less cheerfully racist way.

And there's also the possibility that in his world, his views are valid; in a cosmic structure that contains a Easter Bunny and multiple unrelated iterations of rock people, there's probably a place where alien contact has only ever been hostile.

"Not sure what you'd call that."