Nanshe. She wasn't sure what kind of name that was, but Annabelle was from a family where the men took the last name of their wives when they married in, so she wasn't one to judge. If her mother was alive, she'd be Annabelle Mayfair, not Curry.
"Hi," she said to the woman. "I, uhm, probably should've asked if I could draw you." Annabelle laughed nervously, but when the boyfriend waved his hand, she grabbed her bag, shot a look at one of the aliens, and went to join the new people.
"No, I'm not new," she said. She set the sketchbook down, left pointer and second fingers smudged with charcoal, and the side of her right hand, too. Nanshe's likeness was well-executed, but Annabelle couldn't help feeling like she always did better with paint.
"I've been here a while," she said. "I don't know if I like the spaceship thing better than the other stuff they've come up with but it's less stressful at least."
There was a chance that these people were weird in some way, like she was. Annabelle had to wonder.
"So... I'm sorry for how rude this is going to sound... how are you different?" She looked from Nanshe to the man, and then back. "It seems like most of us here are..."
Her voice trailed off. She locked her gaze on the guy. "Did you say what your name was? I'm Annabelle."
She didn't offer her hand. She didn't want to give either of them an electric shock.