Fletcher isn't expecting to run into another borrower. He hasn't seen any others― besides his brother, Everett― in years. Even then, it was really only his other family, who were all dead and gone, now. Sure, they had the rare Outie pass through― which was what they called the borrowers who lived outdoors in the wilderness― but, really, it had been a long time.

But now, there was another standing right in front of him. He blinks behind his homemade glasses. What is he supposed to say? Should he be friendly, wary? He opens and closes his mouth like a fish for a moment. Eloquent, Fletch. Good job.

"Uh― hiya!" he finally greets, his tone a bit puzzled. "You, um― where'd you come from?"