If it had been someone else Shrieky might not have immediately recognized them, hair and clothes disheveled and bloody as they were. Wolfgang happened to be particularly distinctive, however, and he was one of the citizens of Baedal who Shrieky had more or less committed entirely to memory.

By contrast, Shrieky looked implausibly well. His clothes were a little torn, and a little dirty, from a few falls he'd had while in the process of fleeing the Murlocs in Rex's lab, but there was no blood on him, he wasn't armed, and he didn't look anywhere close to as afraid as he really should have done. Nevertheless, the sight of Wolfgang draws an expression of open relief onto his face. It's good to know that even if everyone else he knows has vanished or died, there is still Wolfgang.

"Hi." He replies, grinning openly now, as he steps forward, a little unsteadily. A thought occurs to him, and the smile slips slightly into a more concerned expression, "All of the blood on you, it's not yours, is it?"