Barrow Fields if you see me floatin' too many times

The sound startles him slightly in the wake of his own outburst. He turns, wary gaze landing on the source a moment later. His expression changes the moment he registers her features, written now with surprise and faint recognition. He takes a few steps in her direction as she approaches, searching her face for some kind of clue; he's certain he knows her from somewhere, but he can't quite remember. Have we met before? He asks without any prelude, gaze tracing over the wounds marring her neck sympathetically; he can recall, vaguely, being in a similar state many times, and he certainly would not recommend it to anyone.