[Takatora sighs in relief: there's the Ryouma he's used to hearing, a veritable font of knowledge that continues spewing even when it's not appreciated. Takatora isn't always the best at tuning in, but he tries, and he really and truly wants to hear what's going on here. Now he can properly lead Ryouma to the couch and try to sit them both down, the coffee all but forgotten in the kitchen.]

We have time, if you wish to tell it.

[They probably have time, anyway. He hopes. The information has him frowning, however.]

There are more of us? From different worlds? [A pause, as he thinks.] And different times as well, I'm assuming.