Ankyra Sound Didn't it rain?

Settling comfortably to his haunches, Nails waited for the welcoming party to arrive. He yawned and hummed a mindless tune to pass the time. While most would sit in silence, stewing in fear of strange wolves and the unknown, Nails had no such reservations. He was confidence incarnate -- reckless and arrogant, possesing enough charm to warm the heart of whatever grumpy-guss the Sound threw his way. Or at least, you know, weasel his way out of getting killed if shit went south.

However, he was not prepared to be met with a walking corpse. He saw her approach, limping and labored. His disarming expression shifted into that of surprise. Everything he planned to say, the whole spiel, it went poof into oblivion. Silent for perhaps a moment too long, Nails had to fight not to ask, 'Holy shit lady. What happened to your face?' 

He held his tongue. "Uh," he stammered, charisma all but scared away. "I, uh -- I'm Nails." He craned his neck to get a better look at pink ribbon wounds. "Lookin to join up, I s'pose." However, judging from the woman's wounds, he was starting to question the idea.