Farrah's eyes flick over to him as he approaches, then away to the clock on the wall. He notes the time, hiding it among some crosshatching, before putting down his pencil and shuffling that page to the back of his stack of paper. There's a smoothness to it as if it was simply time for a new sheet. Nothing to do with someone speaking to him, not at all.

There's no verbal answer and his expression doesn't change much, but he nods and gestures at the seat across from him. Then he's drawing again, laying out the basic ovals of a portrait with light strokes near the center of the page.

Their jumpsuits are the same bright orange. Farrah's certain he's seen him around -of course he'd notice someone with such unusual looks- but now he wishes this guy was already in his notes somewhere.