One of the consequences of being an unapproachable behemoth of a man is that people ... well, don't usually approach. When they do, it's with caution. Their footsteps are hesitant; they scuff their shoes; they clear their throat unnecessarily. Almost like he's an animal that they don't want to startle, lest they get bit.

Maine's not an animal. He doesn't bite people, either. But he might hit them if he's startled, so maybe their caution is warranted.

So, when Maine hears quick footsteps coming his way, he doesn't think that the person is heading towards him.

That is, until an excited woman enters his line of sight — then stops right in front of him, stares, and offers him a cheerful greeting.

Maine blinks. Blinks again. He's half-tempted to look over his shoulder to see if she's talking to someone else — but he knows damn well he's too big to see around. So she's ... cheerfully greeting him?

... The fuck is with this place?

Belatedly, the silent Freelancer nods, both in greeting and in answer to her question. Then he glances down at the bowl she's holding. Looks back at her, puzzled. Did she rush over here to offer him stew?