[cool! I can, uh, let you borrow my shirt and my trousers and my shoes? would that help?]

...he peers at the shirt and trousers and shoes. Do they look to be reasonably sized for him?

Psychic guy is about 6'4 and not exactly scrawny but not extremely heavily built either.

Oh good, his height and build aren't too far off. Sure, he'll take clothes—he gestures for them, not entirely sure how this whole psychic business works—but he looks a little more dubiously at the shoes, uncertain of how to guess the fit when they're so weird and foreign. Maybe the very blond man can just keep those.

[...I don't get that much detail from you if we're not touching but that sounded like you don't want all of this, from your face I gather not the shoes? aren't you gonna get burnt walking on the desert sand without them? I'm] Zash [by the way, nice to meet you.]

He starts stripping, though, jacket first then shoes then shirt and trousers. Bone chips guy will get the sense that Zash feels a little bit bashful, and the reason is pretty obvious: he's covered top to bottom in scars. His left arm ends in a flat metallic stump the prosthetic is attached to, but there are many other metal plates and stitches covering him looking like they're there to keep flesh together. It doesn't look like these scars are the type that imply events that should by survivable by humans. If nothing else, he's clearly been cut and shot pretty vital places a lot.

"Siran," he says, gesturing to himself, when Zash gives his name.

...wow that guy's body is a whole situation.

Siran shrugs and accepts the clothes. He puts on the shirt and trousers, but passes the shoes back to Zash with a gesture to the scars and then to Zash's feet and then to the hot sand all around them. Surely if one of them is going to get burnt walking on the desert sand, it should be the one who heals cleaner?

[...I see where you're coming from but I'd heal cleanly from the burns. but I won't insist, if you're sure.]

The shoes can go back on and then the jacket and then the arm. The jacket is floor length so if he zips it most of the way up he looks kinda comical but not like he's just in his underwear.

Siran gets to his feet and takes a couple of tentative steps back and forth. It's not fun but you know what it also isn't? That's right, it's not being a heap of charred bone fragments!! He'll take it.

Anyway. He glances at Zash and then spreads his arms horizonward, looking this way and that. Any particular direction his benefactor was headed?

Yeah that-a-way, they can start walking, but uh, [I'm not sure how I'm going to explain you. this planet only speaks one language so I guess we could say you're mute?]

[also I gotta say I'm very curious about the whole everything that just happened here]

At 'only speaks one language' he pauses, looking intrigued, and asks a question out loud (in, indeed, a totally foreign tongue).

"And that's not any of the languages I know that aren't the language spoken on this planet," he replies, psychically projecting the meanings at the same time. Not that he expected it to be, Siran's probably an alien, but. "—also, by the way, this is about as far as I can be from you physically to be able to project even this much, any farther and I'll lose fidelity and precision really quick. Twice this and you won't be able to 'hear' me at all." The "hear" there has the relevant psychic connotations in the mental version if not in the word version.

He nods thoughfully, absorbing all this, then holds up his hand in a 'wait' gesture. A few seconds go by.

"—there," he says, perfectly comprehensibly. His accent's maybe a bit odd. "Sorry, I do have translation, I just wasn't even sure you had a language and I couldn't get at it without you using it a little."

"Uh what the fuck?"

"Magic," he says, in a heavy, wry tone that suggests there's a lot more to that story.

"That's. Not a thing."

"What d'you call your business with the mind talking, then?"

"Telepathy! But it obeys physics!"

"It does what?"

Here's a mental concept of physics: fully universal well-defined exceptionless mathematical laws governing everything that happens in this universe.

"I'm not sure we... have those where I come from? I mean, maybe we do. I just don't think I've met them. We sure do have magic, though." There's that sense of weight again.

"I'm picking up on some mixed feelings about magic, here."

"That's because I wrecked a continent with it."

"Man I have no idea how to say that this is relatable but this is kind of relatable."

"Really?"

"It wasn't a continent, but it was the population of—if not a continent at least a very large country.

"This is, uh, not a well-known fact about me." Or Nai. "And the whole magic thing is very likely to attract unwanted attention. As is the telepathy, I haven't told anyone about it. I know I didn't ask you to not tell anyone about me before I told you about me but I'd appreciate it, and would recommend you the same. At least at first."