Chris doesn't see him, but he definitely hears him- or, rather, he hears the drag of metal first, and is turning just as the stranger gets all excitable over the little dud gun. The voice sounds rough to Chris, but he doesn't exactly expect to see that on the other end of it. He's briefly stunned; it's a kid who looks like he's been chewed up and spat out at some point in his life, and Chris suspects that if they'd been in slightly more chaotic circumstances, he may have even mistaken him for someone undead or otherwise infected with an incredibly unhappy virus of some kind.

He takes a short moment to just stare. As unnerving as a very off-looking young man enthusiastically handling a gun in his presence should be, Chris knows the thing doesn't work, and he also knows he's personally strapped with more than enough firearms that do work if he has to defend himself. Still, he can't help but feel a little tense, and his voice reflects the feeling as he says, "Something like that."

You know that wounded, confused, potentially aggressive dog sitting grumpily in the veterinarian's waiting room? That's currently Chris, while Nux is the nearby loud and fluttery bird that's setting him on edge.

No sudden sounds or movements, and all that. "Do you make a habit of sneaking up on people?" Pause. "Or touching their things?"