"See? Machine guns are not my style. Told you I was my own," he joked, though there wasn't much levity in it.

Abed's words made him more solemn, still.

"I'm sorry that's all stuff you have to worry about."

Not "I'm sure that's not true about your dad," not "I'm sure you're not crazy."

He had no reason to believe Abed didn't know his own life and its own pathos well enough.

"But this, right here, this isn't a mental illness manifesting. I dunno what proof I could give you of that, and I'm sorry I don't. Here's what's likely to happen, though. You'll stay here, you'll stay safe from whatever it was you had a run-in with out there, and at some point, you're likely to find yourself back home. It happens a lot around these parts."

Or the universe would end. But Abed finding himself at home was more likely. People came in and out of this temporary Guardianship so frequently.

"You can pretend this never happened, but if anything as strange as this has happened to you before, this is the one that you don't have to doubt your senses over. If I find some way to prove that to you, I will."

He paused, considering.

"Who's Troy?"