There was no response to her question-- not in words, at least. On the other hand, there was a slender figure perched on the steps just below and to one side. If it weren't for the long hair that moved in the slight breeze moving through the city, it could have been a statue. All in white, with white skin and white hair and, upon closer inspection, even his eyes and mouth a pale, washed-out gray-white, he looked as if he could have walked out of a blank sheet of paper. In his hands, looking stark and shocking against the colourless skin, was one of the PDAs that signalled he was one of the displaced. He was peering hard at the small device, a sharp frown on his otherwise soft, dreamy-looking features.
At his feet, bits of papers and plastic had begun to collect, where he touched the PDA, the plastic had corroded somewhat. --Occasionally, he breathed out a thin stream of what looked like smoke.
He seemed very lost, and very distressed, though with Emma's question, he did glance briefly up, noting her curiously. He remained quiet, though, as if he was actually invisible, as if she couldn't see him. So.. she was new, too? But she wasn't War, and she definitely wasn't Lord Death or-- Famine. Glancing back to his PDA, he touched a finger to the screen, slender shoulders hunching in what looked like abject misery. "Where is everyone?" Like his features, his voice was soft, almost lilting, and definitely not human. "So many strangers, and not one familiar face.."