He's quick to straighten up, holding his hands out in a gesture of warding and reassurance all in one. Look, see, he's unarmed, he's not nearly as terrifying as his frame makes him look.

"Sorry."

And he means it, too. He looks awkwardly around at all the junk, including the bit lodged under his foot. "I'll clean it up, just... relax."

Wow, that's a lot of purple. And one... oh. Uh. Ouch. Then he blinks -- whoever this is just called him by name. They know him. That doesn't bode particularly well.

"Do I know you?"