[It's not the greatest joke in the world, but Dixon laughs anyway - mostly because he said almost those exact words when he first got here. It's not anything particularly raucous, just a pleasantly surprised chuff. It clicks about a second later that that means she's probably from a world at least passingly similar to his.

He pulls a folded stack of paper from inside his overcoat pocket, unfolds it, peels off a few pages and hands it to her. Then he takes the stub of his cigarette and flicks it off over the balcony, letting it fall the long, long way down into the river.]

Keep thinking that. I been here weeks and I'm still pretty lost. [Granted, she'll probably be quicker on the uptake than he is, mostly because everyone is quicker on the uptake than he is.] We're saving the world. Or the forest. Or the forest spirits? I'm not sure, but we're saving something, and every time we let our guard down evil witches or monsters attack us.

[That's the gist, at least. The boiled down gist.]

What's your name? I'm Dixon.