Standing in the middle of the trees, Grey has his eyes closed, his breathing even and quiet, listening to the forest around him. It doesn't speak the way a forest should, at least in his humble opinion. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like it one damn bit.

Neither does he like the scuffling steps that come towards him. Someone obviously walking in an awkward manner, not quite like he should, halted, restrained perhaps.

His brows furrow. And finally he opens his eyes to stare at the man. Imposing in his dark coat and frown shadowing his gaze, he gives the bleeding, handcuffed man a long quiet stare, then ventures simply: "You're loud."