Unknowingly, she'd wandered into the right place. Mircea wasn't exactly a leader or a follower--that is to say, he never really lead any revolutions on the front lines, due to his condition sort of relegating him to the shadows and the night time--but he'd been known to whisper in the ears of those who did. Or at least, put words in their mouths. He preferred the long game when it came to these sorts of things. Flash in the pan revolutions never really lead to anything.
Hmm. It was a good start, he supposed. Though he wasn't sure if referring to anyone on this island as simple was going to garner her any favor among the locals. "Mircea," he said offering his hand in greeting. "It is, for the past thirty years or so. I don't get out much. During the day at least." A brief smile flashed sharp canines in explanation. "I think you've got your work cut out for you here though. It's like a rest home. Everyone's a little battered, if not physically than emotionally."