The man in front of the dinosaur skull — the only one of the two actually capable of speech, technically speaking, since he hadn't left the thing's tongue in place and wasn't entirely sure where the larynx even ended up, after the decapitation — raises one eyebrow, and rests both hands on his hips, leaving the shimmery-white lab-coat-slash-academic-robe he's got on over his practical all-dark-mostly-blackish ensemble to shimmer extra vibrantly in the breeze, vaguely reminiscent of a superhero for that matter. (Not actually on purpose.)

"That depends," he answers, voice pitched to cover the whole clearing with ease, tone somewhere between flat, dry, and sardonically amused. "Is your other option 'or are you just glad to see me'?"