Newt hums thoughtfully, glancing over at Coop with an amused smirk. "Weirder than Darrow? This place has its share of the supernatural, sorry if you haven't gotten the memo yet. Got my neck nibbled on once by a vampire who needed a snack. I had to tell people I accidentally fell onto a barbecue fork."

Nearly everyone who comes here is damaged in some way or another, it seems. He's yet to meet a person who's live has been just dandy up until they'd gotten here. It's true that most people have issues, shit they keep buried, but then there are those who live cushy lives without ever running into a problem beyond maybe needing to ask their parents for more money. He'd met a few of those people at MIT and that hadn't made them any less likable--well, maybe some of them--but he wonders what they'd think if they could catch up now. If they hadn't all been killed by the kaiju already, anyway.

"'Sides," he continues, "the L.A. I came from got destroyed by this guy." He holds an arm out, rolling up his sleeve so he can point out one of his tattoos. "Yamarashi. Not to scale, for the record."