There's a conundrum. He could pick any name out of a hat, and honestly, he'd be most comfortable with a completely new identity. That won't get him home, though. Technically speaking, neither would his real name. Even if she could find the exact point in history when a seventeen year old John Connor was supposed to be, she'd be sending him to the wrong place. And if, by some terrible twist of fate, he's been brought here by the machines that have been hunting him for so long, then his real name is not something he can afford to give anyway.

So.

"John Baum. I'm from Los Angeles."

With that, he sits back, eyeing her.

"How did we get here? What were those eggs?"