It's empty eye sockets set in blackened dead skin that stares back at her. But they do a marvellous job of looking, where he's rocked back on his haunches where he seems to be watching her quite intently in fact. Isn't he helpful, waiting to see if she's okay?

Or not, in truth, he goes through the bodies to find a spark of life rattling around in unused bones. He'd rather be hoping she wasn't going to wake, truth be told. Take out her femur, snap it apart and writing old words upon it. Make himself strong upon the life-current of others. Waits to see and speak until - perhaps she had been injured. It would be no matter to wait until she did. End it quick if she was in pain. Be gracious about it.

But she wakes, gasps, crawls her way back to the land of the living, and that's that. Whatever his intentions however, they are hidden by his corpse of a face. The ash that falls from him which - doesn't not just seem charred bits of bodies, but it still smells like something burning. Mercifully, it's been enough time that he has found other dead bodies, even if the bones weren't serviceable, their suits were cut up to wrap around the lower part of his face.

"Easy. It can be startling to wake, at first."