The gnome has already concluded that if this man isn't there to spy on him, they're both being watched from outside, one way or another. Good times.

Meanwhile, 'I don't know' is a striking answer. It could be evasive, but in that tone of voice it comes across as honest. Another captive, then, the gnome decides, though perhaps not fully trustworthy because they've compromised him somehow.

"Steve," he echoes, in a tone of voice that clearly expresses what the hell kind of name is Steve?. Humans have odd naming conventions. "Hm. Well. My name is Barcus. Barcus Wroot. Presumably, we won't have heard of one another."

He rolls his shoulders a little, consciously trying to release the tension he's been holding since he landed here. Save some of that for later. "I hope Thulla remembers to feed my cats. They're resourceful enough to find their own prey if they must, but Mishka will absolutely ruin the carpet if he eats a slug."

Not just a normal conversation, aggressively normal, like the little man is determined to bring this under control by acting like it's no big deal.