Yeah, no. There was no way in Hell that she was going to shake his hand. Not because of him being a stranger but entirely because of the way her hands looked. She was 'naturally' short one finger and they were bumpy like bird toes with vicious talons on the ends. She didn't want to accidentally gouge his hand or something. It was hard enough trying to get those damned journals to work...
Heather straightened up, crossing her arms in front of her stomach. The sun glinted off the golden armor that was her skin. The predator part of her brain recoiled at being laughed at, wanted to smack him for it. But the logical, still relatively human part of her brain kept her instincts in check. Her arms tightened a little more around her middle.
"Right... Alternate universes so of course, other Captains. Fucking Hell," she huffed softly, "do you have, um... X-Men where you're from then? Alternate versions of us?" She was so terribly uncomfortable, didn't want to be out here. People were looking at her. Heather closed her eyes and just tried to breathe.