There's this split second where Peter braces to get charged by a dinosaur that has to easily outweigh him. There's nothing human in the eyes, none of the usual markers he's used to read all the aliens he's met - the muscle tics are all wrong, the movements like a bird, a hawk or whatever, checking a rabbit out. An alien you can reason with once you figure out what they value: money, sex, good food, a triple to some holy asteroid and they desperately need a ride and will pay good units to get it. An animal, though? Not so much.

Peter figures the step back is a good sign since it doesn't get followed by a pounce forward. If that clicking in the dinosaur's throat means anything, his translator implant isn't picking it up - either it isn't saying anything or he missed out on a patch.

"We cool?" Peter holds his hand out, not to pet, but to show he's weaponless and how much of a dick move it would be to jump him. It's a pretty much universal gesture back where he comes from. "You got a name I can actually pronounce?"