Wheeling Gull Isle Barren land, a storm that time remembers

He would have just kept aimlessly walking if he hadn't been called out to, passing right by without a look -- but no, he came to a halt, searching for the one who had done so. It was some guy, he saw eventually. Perhaps if things in his life had been less eventful, he would have remembered the brief encounter he'd had with the man, what the other guy had said... But it had been long enough and it was comparatively an unimportant thing that it was lost to time. So instead he was a stranger. Maybe that was good, maybe that was bad.

Either way, the guy seemed like he'd had a pretty hard life -- worse than Mal's, at least when it came to physical suffering -- and there was some foreign ring around his neck, not that Mal could see it well but it stood out as alien. Then again, maybe Mal was the alien. Sure seemed like he didn't know how to act any more, at least. Awkward silence before he finally bobbed his head slightly, Hey. Pause. Wait. Did the guy want to say something specifically to him? It wasn't like Mal was sure what he was going to say. There was too much abstract emotion that boiled beneath the surface that he couldn't nail down into thought. It didn't make for good conversation.