He follows her gaze somewhere behind her, trying to clock whatever it is she looks like she's running from. Just in case something needs cut.

"The mannequins?" he takes note of that face he's seeing on mostly of them. Or maybe all of them. It's no one to him, but it's enough to rattle her. "Someone you're afraid of?" he asks. It's one part nosiness, and one part survival instincts that makes him want to know just how concerned they should be if this place is conjuring those who haunt other travellers.

"Nah, I'm good," he says. It's genuine if not a little tired. "The fluorescents," he gestures to the ceiling. "They wear on me after a while."