He's surprised that she can just draw it out in the dirt like that, a little envious of her skills-- Esteban's best attempt at a doodle would be a bunch of squiggly lines, and that's with proper materials. But it at least gives him an idea of the ship she's used, even though he can barely tell much other than the front and the back of it, and only because it has such a distinct shape.

The wasp-ships don't even seem to phase him, surprisingly enough. He nods as she speaks, though his smile grows a little complicated; with an eyebrow pinched down and some trace of awkwardness to it.

"Wow. That's... alright, that's morbid, but pretty cool," he has to admit, snickering at the idea. Yikes. That's like saying someone would have found a dragon's corpse, emptied it out and started using it to fly about. But a kilometer-long wasp is still small enough that he can deal, pressing the vastness away with the smaller distance in comparison.

There's a short pause as he considers what to say to this, slowly collecting himself from the entire scores of knowledge and thoughts that has been poured into him in the last few minutes. It was-- a lot. But Esteban is adaptable, and, beyond the overwhelming scope of things, he can start picking at threads to see the colours woven in the tapestry.

"I've always loved the stars," he mentions, a little distractedly, eyes turning up to the gentle purple sky above their heads. "Even when I was a kid-- the moons too. The night." He closes his eyes. "The wind an' the feelin' of flyin'. Like I could go anywhere." There's a deep breath that settles in his lungs, smelling just a bit like saltgrass. The vast open plains that were as much his world as the cities were.

"I think it's amazin' that humans managed it in your world. That they reached out to the skies an' flew."