"Ah-hah, a type of sailor," he rubbed the back of his head again. He's come to the decision that explaining where he came from wasn't breaking any rules. He couldn't very well just keep lying and dodging it after all, he would seem odd. Not that he already didn't seem odd, but still.

He pointed up towards the sky and looked to Sam, his smile soft and bright at the same time, the look someone gets when they're speaking of something they love. "I'm a star ship captain. My ship flies through the stars - or outer space as we call it." He left the question of weapons out of it.

His question got another sheepish smile out of him. "Actually... That's accurate. My uncle produced mostly grain, but we switched to vegetables sometimes to rotate the soil. He wasn't an animal farmer - most people where I grew up weren't but there was a dairy farm or two."