The man is somewhat darker-skinned than Josepha, although with Wasteland living conditions it's always hard to tell how much of something like that is natural and how much of it is just daily hygiene. The only visible protective gear he has on is a heavy leather duster, but there's enough bulk to it to suggest it's layered over something more substantial. He turns a little more in Voodoo's direction, a curved scar running from his hairline to one of his eyebrows visible for a moment as he nods. "As close to local as anyone gets these days," he says. "You ain't."

It's not a question. It might as well be written on the travelers' faces, after all.