Ask about his mission

"What kind of mission are you on?" you ask. "This...this isn't some kind of invasion, is it? Is Earth under attack?"

"It's not an attack," Luke says, and you see him lean back against the door frame. He looks tired. Or hurt. You glance at the floor and see several more dark drops of blood around his paws. He's bleeding. "The last thing we want is any more fighting, any more ****. We just want a place where we can live in peace."

"And you want to live here. With us. Do you have any idea how people are going to react to...you?" you say, gesturing toward him. "Most people aren't as open-minded as I am."

"That's what we're here to find out," Luke says. "That's our mission. To gather information so our leaders can make a decision." He slowly shakes his head. "You don't need to worry. They won't pick this universe. We'll keep looking. If we're lucky, we'll find a place before they find a way to wipe us out completely."

You don't know what he's talking about, but you can hear the despair in his voice, you can see the weight of it in the way his shoulders slump and his head hangs. Or is that the blood loss? "You're hurt," you say finally.

The otter looks down at his left arm, and you can see that the fur is dark and wet with blood. "It's just a graze. It's nothing." More dark drops drip from the tips of his claws.

"That doesn't look like nothing," you say. "Were you shot?"

"I said, it's just a graze." He straightens up and you watch him sway unsteadily.