Avery didn't really understand sarcasm. It either tended to go right over his head or made him think that the other person was angry with him for some reason. He never knew what to say when that happened, and he didn't this time, either. He just blinked and gazed at the girl as if she might suddenly speak again and offer some explanation for her rhetorical question, but of course she didn't, and he turned his attention to his plate once more. This was going to be the tricky side of being here, he'd already realized. Dealing with people, with so many different personalities and backgrounds, when he wasn't well-versed at dealing with people at all. Again, he spared a thought for why it was he'd decided to do this, shaking his head a little as he picked the crust off of the sandwich half that was left.
He was surprised when she sat down at the table with him, because he'd thought that maybe she'd taken an instant dislike to him for some reason, given her attitude. Maybe she was just like that. It was also strange to know that she couldn't see him, but not necessarily bad. He always felt less self-conscious when he wasn't being observed. When she asked who he was, he replied, "Avery Weston." His voice was still soft and definitely accented with traces of the southern region where he'd grown up. "Glad t'meet you." He wasn't positive that he was, but he'd been raised to be polite to women, especially.