[ First bit of good news is that David doesn't have to go far to find a towel. A clean one's tossed unceremoniously at his head right as he finishes up the observation about his clothes (or lack thereof), accompanied by a familiar voice. ]

Cover up, will you? I think your daughter's had enough trauma the past few months to last her a lifetime. Or several.

[ No need to add to the list. Hook's already dressed, the only lingering trace of his ungraceful fall from the pods being a bit a dampness in his hair. The outfit's a bit off from what David last saw him in — all black, bit of leather, but it's an altogether modern take on it. He's graduated to wearing actual jeans, for one.

He stops a few paces off, expression somewhere between amused and sympathetic as he gestures to the room at large with his hook. ]

Welcome to space, mate.