He hears that spike of panic in her tune and tries not to wince. Nothing like the immediate feedback of making things worse when you're trying to make them better.

Then the panic subsides, and she takes the mug. "No problem." On the one hand, she isn't drinking it; on the other hand, he's a complete stranger approaching an upset woman from another dimension on a spaceship. The fact that she accepted the mug at all is probably some sort of victory, and he's going to treat it as such.

"Kinda crazy, huh," he starts after a few more long moments of silence, shifting to face forward and rest his elbows on his knees. "I mean, we're on an interdimensional rescue mission to help people who've been kidnapped an' turned into rock stars against their will so someone else can get power for it. And we're in space. It's like galactic mad libs, 'cept we're livin' it."