With every word, it sounds more and more like gibberish. Magnus' expression shifts from confusion to a vague sense of alarm as he realises he doesn't understand what's being said. He recognises some words, but strung together, it's nonsense. Maybe this stranger is just insane.

"I… I don't know what Drift or Tarn is," he admits quietly, slowly. "I don't remember anything you're describing. I'm–" He doesn't quite flinch, but the words sting in his mouth anyway. "Sorry."