Even before he extends a helping tentacle for her, he's perplexed by her appearance. He swears he's seen her before...certainly not in person, like on the television or the internet. That presence, that outfit, it's unmistakably familiar, but he can't quite put a name to the face. Something starting with S...Sarah--no, too simple. Salena...? Siobhan...? Damn it.

Most of what she says goes effectively unheard, as he tries to think of what he knows her from. Do you come here often? she asks, as he politely tucks his limb back under his blanket, and his mildly bewildered facial expression changes to something a little more...knowing and exasperated.

He knows where she's aiming for with this. She's attractive, has a nice voice...her choice of fashion is a little more bourgeoisie than he'd usually go for, but as it stands, not that bad of a prospect. But he still hasn't figured out who she is.

"It's a grocery store, miss--ma'am." he responds, somewhat meekly. "Most of us come here often...except for the tourists, but they stick out like sore thumbs."

He's one to talk.