[Hmh. That language sounds like something Sylvarant had used before the worlds had been split, yet not enough to recognise. It would be a nuisance if they'd have to go through a full round of the stranger figuring out that Kratos wouldn't be able to understand anything he said, regardless of the language. And there's still something strange about the man's mana.

[No. There's no point in wasting the time. Instead Kratos shakes his head and moves forward, his steps the steady, inexorable sort of a man who's rarely had to be concerned about anything. He does make sure to remember to breathe, and he turns most of his senses back on as he goes. The temperature, it proves, is not precisely comfortable, so he keeps that turned off.

[As he approaches the stranger, he can see more of him from the streetlights beyond; and the sense of wrongness increases. The man's features are human enough, but there's something about the texture of his skin which doesn't seem quite alive -- like Tabatha. And his eyes don't focus, and his hair is ... not the kind Kratos would expect from a man who wears what is obviously formalwear. It's unkempt. The closer Kratos gets, the more he feels like the shift of mana is nothing more than a surface illusion.

[Well. Either he fell into the right street, or the extremely wrong one. Something not quite alive is blocking his exit.

[Kratos's pace doesn't waver, as if the stranger isn't even there. He's waiting to see the man's response to being ignored.]