Mulcahy appraises the stranger. Notes the unique things. It’s not an unkind gesture; it’s all the same as if he’d been noting someone’s standout outfit, a stranger meeting a strange stranger. The undead (and he figures he must be, Mulcahy’s seen many cadavers that looked just the same) doesn’t scare or unsettle him; especially since one of his old friends had been the Ancient Fuelweaver.

For his part, Mulcahy offers a warm (if wan) smile.

“Perhaps not, but I’m finding myself more of a stranger than usual. I have a… a bit of a difficult place among some of these other newcomers, and I…”

It’s a bit crass to just tell someone you’re not used to not being in a prison with the same crowd for years anymore, isn’t it?

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen so many fresh faces. It’s a little overwhelming, that’s all.”