Disclaimer: Star Wars and all it's intellectual properties do not belong to me, only my original creations like Jake Torres and others that will eventually show up.

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The silence that stretched between us felt thick, uncomfortable. I was sure he was waiting for me to say something more, something that would explain the absurdity of my presence on his farm. But what else could I say? 'Hi, I woke up in a galaxy far, far away, and I'm still processing the fact that I have Tony Stark's engineering knowledge in my head?' Yeah, right.

Instead, I stood there, awkwardly fidgeting in my sleepwear, feeling a little more out of place with each passing second. The farmer finally broke the silence with a grunt, clearly not satisfied but not quite willing to throw me out—yet.

"You're not from around here, are you?" he asked, his tone carrying the weight of someone who'd seen his share of strange things but wasn't quite sure if I was the strangest yet.

I shook my head. "No, definitely not."

"Where're you from then?"

That question hit harder than it should have. 'Earth', I almost said. But saying that would only make things more complicated. I needed to buy myself some time, figure out my next move. "Far away," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Far far away."

The farmer gave me a long, hard look, like he was sizing me up, trying to decide if I was worth the trouble of helping or if he should just send me on my way.

"Well, wherever you're from," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "you look like you could use some food and water. There's a small town not too far from here. You're welcome to come along—just don't cause any trouble."

I nodded quickly, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. "Thank you," I said, meaning it.

He turned to lead the way, and I fell in step behind him, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was on Tatooine—or at least some planet with two suns and sand everywhere. I couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to get even stranger.

As we walked, my mind raced with possibilities. I had no idea how I got here.

As I followed the farmer across the dusty terrain, I found myself becoming more okay with the silence between us. It wasn't uncomfortable, not exactly. But every time his eyes flicked toward me, like he was checking to make sure I was still there—or worse, studying me—I started fidgeting. My hands flexed at my sides, and I shifted my weight, trying not to let my nerves show.

He hadn't asked me anything in a while, and I could feel his scrutiny lingering like a weight on my shoulders. I wanted to say something, to explain myself, but even I didn't really know what to explain. How was I supposed to tell him the truth when I barely understood it?

Hi, I'm Jake Torres, and I woke up in the middle of your desert after somehow being transported from another galaxy. Also, I might have Tony Stark's engineering skills rattling around in my head. But don't worry, I'm just as confused as you are.

Yeah, no. That wasn't going to fly. Even I wouldn't believe me if I said something like that.

But I couldn't keep quiet forever. Eventually, he was going to ask me to clarify things, and I had to have something ready. I took a deep breath and decided to go with something that was vague enough to not raise alarms but still close enough to the truth that it didn't feel like a complete lie. Maybe I could spin it in a way that made sense—from a certain point of view.

The farmer hadn't said much since we started walking, and that suited me fine. The silence let me think. But now that the town was in sight—a cluster of low, worn buildings on the horizon—I felt the pressure rising again.

Finally, as if on cue, the farmer spoke. His voice was gruff, but it didn't carry the same edge of suspicion it had earlier. "Name's Davik," he said, glancing at me sideways. "Don't think I caught yours earlier."

I blinked, realizing he was right. In all the confusion, I hadn't actually introduced myself. "Jake Torres," I said quickly. "Sorry about that."

Davik grunted, acknowledging it, but said nothing else for a few steps. Then, after a pause, he asked, "You really don't remember how you got here?"

I hesitated, trying to keep my tone calm and measured. "Not exactly," I replied, keeping it vague. "I woke up out there, in the middle of the desert. It's all kind of a blur."

He didn't seem convinced, but he didn't press me either. He kept his eyes forward, though I could see the gears turning in his head. I got the feeling he wasn't buying the whole "blur" explanation, but I also sensed he was a practical man. Maybe he thought it didn't matter how I got there. Or maybe he just didn't care enough to dig deeper.

After another minute or so of walking, he finally spoke again, more to himself than to me. "You're not dangerous. That much I can tell. But…" He shot me another quick glance, his brow furrowing slightly. "You alright in the head?"

I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. Great, now he thinks I'm crazy. Not that I could blame him. I probably would've thought the same thing in his shoes.

I shook my head quickly. "No, I'm fine," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "I know it sounds strange, but I'm okay. Just...disoriented, I guess. I don't really know how to explain it."

Davik grunted again, clearly still skeptical but not pressing any further. Maybe he figured if I was harmless, it didn't really matter how sane I was. Or maybe he just didn't want to deal with the headache of figuring me out.

As we neared the outskirts of the small town, he gave a small, resigned sigh. "Well, town's not far now. I'll take you there, see if we can get you something to eat and drink. Maybe someone'll recognize you, though I doubt it."

I nodded, grateful for the help. "Thanks," I said quietly.

Davik didn't respond, just kept walking, though I noticed he glanced back at me less frequently now. Maybe he was starting to believe I wasn't a threat after all. That, or he'd just resigned himself to helping out the weird guy who stumbled onto his farm.

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Either way, I was relieved. For now, I'd made it through without having to reveal too much. But deep down, I knew I couldn't keep skating by on half-truths forever. Eventually, I'd have to figure out how to explain myself.

But for now, I focused on the town ahead, wondering what my next move would be once I got there.

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After a few more minutes of walking, we finally reached the edge of the town. I could see it clearly now—low, sand-colored buildings with curved, rounded edges, just like I'd seen a hundred times on screen. The first thought that came to my mind was it's not that different from the movies. Everything was almost exactly as I remembered from Star Wars—a dusty little settlement full of people going about their business under the twin suns, minding their own, not even glancing in our direction as we approached.

But the second thought that hit me came from somewhere entirely different. My eyes darted around, taking in all the details, but the thing that caught my attention the most were the droids. Especially one in particular—a thin, gangly-looking robot with long, spindly arms and legs, hobbling along carrying supplies.

How does that thing even move? I thought, my mind already racing with ideas. Where did they put all the motors and gears to make it so compact? And they've got AI running in these things, too? Individually? Each one with its own programming?

I was so busy gawking at the droids, trying to mentally pick them apart to figure out how they worked, that I completely missed Davik saying something. His voice barely registered in the background of my mind, lost in the whirlwind of ideas and excitement about the tech around me.

It wasn't until he cleared his throat loudly and gave me a sharp look that I snapped back to reality. Embarrassed, I realized I hadn't heard a single word he'd said.

"Uh, sorry, could you repeat that?" I asked, rubbing the back of my neck, feeling the heat of my blush creeping up. I really needed to stop doing that.

Davik shook his head slightly, though he didn't seem too annoyed. "I asked if you've ever seen anything like this before," he repeated, gesturing to the bustling town in front of us.

I swallowed hard, unsure how to answer. "Not… exactly like this," I said carefully, my eyes flicking back to the droids. "It's just… there's a lot to take in."

Davik raised an eyebrow at that but didn't press any further. He probably chalked it up to me still being disoriented from whatever strange situation he thought I was in. But I couldn't stop myself from studying everything around me—the layout of the town, the way people interacted with the tech, and how it all fit together.

I had so many questions, so many things I wanted to tinker with, tear apart, and understand. But for now, I just followed Davik as we made our way deeper into the town. I needed to play it cool, at least until I figured out my next move.

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After several more minutes of walking, Davik and I turned a corner and stepped onto what looked like a busy market street. Stalls lined either side, with vendors shouting about their wares, and droids scuttled between them, delivering goods and interacting with customers. The scene was both familiar and strange, like a bizarre mix of something I'd seen in a movie and something entirely new.

I was still buzzing with excitement, my eyes darting from one mechanical marvel to the next, when it hit me—I hadn't even noticed the people around me. I'd been so focused on the tech that I had completely tuned out the crowd.

But now that I was paying attention, I realized something else: not all of them were… well, human.

There were species I recognized from the movies—Twi'leks with their head-tails, Rodians with their big, bug-like eyes, and even a couple of Jawas shuffling around with their familiar brown robes and glowing eyes. Wow, I really am in a galaxy far, far away, I thought to myself, trying not to stare too long.

It was only after I'd taken in the strange and varied faces around me that I realized something else—my pajamas. Compared to what everyone else was wearing, my soft, brightly patterned sleepwear looked ridiculously out of place. Most of the people wore practical, rough-spun tunics or light, airy garments designed to keep out the heat of the desert. My pajamas, with their rich fabric and bright colors, probably looked downright luxurious in comparison.

Great, I thought, inwardly cringing. Not only do I stick out like a sore thumb, but I look like some kind of spoiled noble who got lost in the desert.

I couldn't help but start an internal debate with myself. What do I even call them? Locals? Aliens? People? I mean, they are people, even if they don't look human… I didn't want to think of them as anything disrespectful, but my mind was scrambling for the right word to use.

Shaking my head, I forced myself to focus. Right now, I needed to worry less about what to call them and more about how not to look like an idiot. And that meant getting rid of the pajamas.

Maybe I could trade them? I thought, glancing at a nearby stall where a vendor was showing off rough-spun tunics to a potential buyer. They're nice enough that someone might want them. And if I got some local clothes in return, I'd blend in better.

I tried to imagine myself bartering with one of these vendors, explaining why a guy like me was trying to trade pajamas in the middle of a dusty market. The thought was both absurd and a little funny. Yeah, hi, I'd like to exchange these high-quality, imported pajamas for something less ridiculous, thanks.

I stifled a nervous laugh, but I was seriously considering it. Blending in seemed like a good idea—especially if I wanted to avoid drawing too much attention to myself.

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