Great. Even in outer space Reddington still manages to be pedantic. She watches him carefully, filing away each micro-expression and every frustrating lack thereof as he hands her the glass of scotch. She takes it, even spends a few seconds looking at it, but she takes a drink without any further remark. Maybe that says something. Maybe it doesn't.

"That's terrible," she says, making a face at the glass. "They call that scotch?"

If there was ever going to be any convincing proof she's not on Earth, that would be it. She sets the glass down on the bar, and takes a breath.

"You're trying to tell me that I somehow ended up on some alien spaceship, with no memories of how I got here, no sense of time passing," she begins, eyes soft and imploring. "And that you just happen to be here, but I haven't been drugged?"