[ he knows she's heard him. he's made sure that everyone around the safehouse could hear him, weighing their reactions to what could be considered an social faux-pas and a tacky gesture. for now, he dresses in what's been made available in dark colors, black-on-black. it's the most neutral option of them all, and it leaves him looking unassuming and stiff, as any of the Displaced ought to be upon arrival. tsera vel, the name he's adopted as his moniker for this world, is a lot more prone to partying it up when the opportunity provides her. she's social, she's approachable and fun.

it's why he's easily able to hook his arm through OA's own and beam at her, wide eyes, split lip and all: ] Oh, wow. That'd be so awesome of you! I mean, you don't look like you know much about shopping, but who cares! More's the plenty, or whatever that saying is.

[ he chatters evenly, loosely, letting his natural drawl coax his words into a warm sort of valley-girl feel. ]

Huh, my mouth? Oh, it happened when I fell out of the truck - any idea who those people were, I'd love to give them a piece of my mind.