What went differently, that this man still walks around flesh and blood, unaugmented in any fashion that Knives can tell? He must be, or he'd be a child even by human terms, and yet there's not a sign he can see of any kind of modification, and he's paying sharp attention. Maybe things were vastly different, and the proof was in the lack of a three hundred pound machine gun. With no cybernetics to lighten the weight, those weapons would be impossible to operate.

But clearly, he knows him, and that keeps Knives wondering and a bit distracted with the wondering. He could just demand answers, but that wouldn't be as interesting. "Just one? If I'm just one in a million then based on current estimates I'd be.." He taps the table thoughtfully. "One of three or four." That might even be likely, if the rumor that there's at least two Stampedes in the city right now is true.

"But you're not wrong. Don't worry about them. Whoever they're looking for, I don't match up." He knows this isn't exactly true, since posters tended to be artists' interpretation anyway, but they're still not looking for a guy slumming around in jeans and cropped jackets, working on the same glass of water for an hour.