Mary practically jumps at the voice, and that's when she realizes she's scared. Actually, legitimately scared. She hates it. She hates not being in control. She hates the vulnerability. Fear is for other people, not her. She turns to face the voice, clutching her keys tightly, as if they could be some kind of weapon.

Disgusting. Mary's seen injuries and grime before, from a distance, when her estate was briefly turned into a war hospital. But that was always Sybil's territory, not hers, and this man looks more or less healthy, except for the arm. So why does he insist on presenting himself like that? Dirty, unshaven, covered in things Mary really doesn't want to think about. Where is his sense of dignity?

And how dare he call her lost. How forward. "I'm perfectly fine," she responds, fighting to keep her voice even and coming off maybe a little colder than she usually does for introductions. "I'm merely looking for the door that unlocks a set of keys I've been so...ah, generously given."