"Well, there are no supplies for you here." None at all, technically, because what little there was he's already eaten, but this is a matter of principle. Even if he will move on tomorrow. Maybe. This flat is the most intact that he's been in so far - which mostly means that the windows are still in one piece with curtains to be drawn over them, the door is still in one piece, and so on, which not only means additional safety but also keeps the wind out. As much as he hates being this locked up, he also is too pragmatic to turn something like that down easily.

"Nobody knows what's going on." He has had very little contact with the other residents of this ruin, but what he could glean about their situation tells him that there are little differences to his. They have no idea how they got here, no idea how to get back, and close to no resources.

He knows that there are beings that seem to only ever have spoken to anyone on those Weaver devices everyone's been issued (and that he promptly abandoned), and they might know more, but he hasn't yet been able to track them down. It would be helpful if he wasn't alone in that task - when he thinks about this, he acutely misses Louise and the other homid pack members, this'd be more up their alley -, but so far he's run into nobody that he would want to work with.

"You sound new."