Hmm. [Oran contemplates this newest attempt and then shakes his head, unphased. A few months ago, yes, but he's seen too much and heard too many callous residents not to pick up on some of it, himself.]

It might be a bit too samey. 'Fucksville, Fuck Island'?

[He is going to try to slowly unlatch the tail of the dragon around his horn, which seems to be working if he moves slowly, so long as he continues talking.]

And... I'm sorry to let you know, it's not entirely fucks at all times, despite what the robots want you to think. Most of us are just trying to get along until someone clever enough to chalk in a working teleportation circle can get along with it. Even the people who pilot "star" ships seem confused.

[Mixed awe and disdain are tempered only by the fact that Oran's finger has just gotten bit. Or lipped; this thing is impossibly harmless when it comes to self defense.]