He's still grasping at the edges of his thoughts, feeling them unspool like a lost ball of yarn. It's hard to keep things from spinning in his head much less his limbs, but he manages to breathe, deeply, as he tries to stave off the tangles of too much at once that are still lingering like cobwebs.

"Yeah," he adds after she mentions that it is a lot, barely keeping up with the words. He's slower at piecing together the rest of her sentences, still trying to manage the overwhelming size, distance, numbers still roaming somewhere in his mind. He can't comprehend it. It's so large, he can't understand it.

He kind of wants to ask about it, but knows that he needs a bit of time to settle his thoughts first-- he's not going to make much progress otherwise. So Esteban leans back onto his arms. Fills his lungs with the briny air that surrounds them. And wrings it out mechanically one or two more times.

"Tell me 'bout the floatin' carriages?" It's... it's a smaller shard, a piece of the puzzle rather than the whole. He might take a while to build it, piece by piece like this, but he will hold on. "Are they like the speeders of Ossiga?" But he hadn't seen a speeder rise off the ground like those had. They'd been in the sky. Whizzing by, like wings supported them, but there was no wings on them.