Lion Head Mesa I keep catching little words but the meaning's thin

A frown flashed across his face at her snort - only for it to fall back into place, a neutral canvas once more as she continues. As her voice carried on, he noted the snort wasn't quite to mock his words or mission - but rather at their pointless situation and that his hopes for finding a reason would forever be fruitless. Optimism is all I have left. His words were soft, not weak, but merely speaking more so for himself than for her. 

Then, her stance changed. Defensively he leaned back, ears facing toward his rear while his body visibly grew more stiff and watchful. Defensive for neutral lands. He noted. My name is Rosencrantz. I recently joined Rusalka, came here from the plateau. I will be returning after this since there is nothing to be found according to you. His voice was stern, unshaken, and he kept his gaze on her - watching for any signs of a possible scuffle. 

That's right. She didn't know him, and he in turn, obviously, didn't know her. So? Who are you?