She gives him a look which is not hostile or annoyed, but still manages to communicate, with some amusement, 'what the fuck are you talking about', which is a reaction from people she's pretty sure this guy cultivates, so she may as well let it happen. Lea doesn't quite know what she makes of him yet, but she's forming her opinions pretty quickly. He's scarred and tough-looking, which reminds her of home, but the smart mouth reminds her of--well--her. She tosses her curls back over her shoulder (the one with the dress-strap on it), fingertips lacing through the wrought-iron of the railing. For balance, ostensibly.

"What's your name, anyway?"

O mysterious fellow freak of nature.