Jet barely has time to come to his senses when he hears a sharp voice telling him to get up. He lets out a small groan of pain, trying to struggle to his feet. He does not recognize the armor--something that strikes him as unusual, given his extensive travels. The most direct comparison he can make is from depictions of Earth's Nordic mythology. Still, someone with such impressive armor could only be a warrior of some sort, and he's instantly on high alert.

His brown jacket clings to his large frame as he glances around, taking in his surroundings. The last time he was on a beach--a real beach--was when he was last on Earth, over fifteen years ago. Of course, he had been a different person back then. The old Jet had been locked away in the back of his mind for almost just as long, where he could do no more harm to others. He squints at the trees in the distance, then back towards the woman addressing him.

"Your guess is as good as mine," he replies, his voice a deep, even monotone. "It appears we are somewhere on Earth, though it is nowhere I recognize."

Jet pauses for a moment before continuing, crossing his arms. "I assume you aren't the one who kidnapped me and brought me here, then."