Hubert was in a predicament: he couldn't stay still and he couldn't take a step. It was a weird in-between place where his fidgeting and swaying couldn't really be called movement but it couldn't be called standing still, either. His normally well groomed hair was as wild as it could get, short as he kept it, and his normally crisp clothes were covered with wrinkles and dirt and who knew what other kinds of filth. Even his hands were covered in it! Hubert kept rubbing his hands together, trying to get it all off, even after the stranger called out to him.
He was muttering "It's only an illusion" under his breath over and over again.
Another noise came in through the dark, and it broke Hubert out of his spell. He jumped suddenly and had to all but pinwheel his arms to keep from face planting in more nature. "Wha- What do you want! I don't have anything!" Hubert took a few stumbling steps, tripped over the luggage he'd all but forgotten since dragging it out of the plane, and fell on his ass.