Stavanger Bay good day for a haunting

Isengrim accepts his solutide for what feels like only a minute before the wanderer finds him. the pitched voice raises an inquiry and he blinks slowly up at the figure looming over him, nose scrunching in confusion as tired eyes meet the gaze of this individual does not recognize. Admittedly, her tone is kind and raises no perceived threat however he is annoyed with the intrusion and brushes off her inquiry. 

"Do I know you or sumthin'?" He grumbles dryly before returning his gaze to the approaching tide. But she is here now, and he is burdened to carry out this interaction for however long it extends and so with a sigh, he digs his nails into the sand and stretches out his skeletal frame. The man is taller than he looks laying down, a nod to the regent Cairns' impressive stature. A couple (or, maybe a lot) more pounds and a leviathan could have been made of him, but years of lonerism left him permanently lean. 

On that note, a low grumble stemming from his abdomen indicates it has been too long since his last meal, and he turns to the girl once more. "You uh... got any snacks?" his head tilts slightly, asking the question with a lighter tone than his first retort. Perhaps it would benefit the man to be generally nicer, however, the salty brood had been raised manner-less and proud, and the wilds had taught him to be anything but.