If the American gentleman did know who he was, then he was a damn good actor. It was strange, but he was actually inclined to trust him - at least enough to follow him out of the snow and into this 'food court' he spoke of. At least it wasn't the endless babbling of the phone, telling him about time travel and magic doors and his great-great-grandson who was also called George.
Plus, he was sure that only something stronger than caffeine was going to stop his hands from trembling and bring some colour back to his pale cheeks.
"I...I doubt that... you'll be able to.... a-answer all... the kuh-kuh-questions I--- have," he admitted. "A-and I'm afraid... ah you w-will be-- w-waiting a rrr-ather long time... fffor me to... ah-even get through... asking them all."
Still, he followed. That was a start. He'd look out a window and see not-space and everything would be fine. Unless...