The Promethean hangs back, but he leans forward a little hopefully, smiling. He isn't wearing his hood today, and there's a tiny rent in his cheek that's leaking little black glowing bits, like stars made out of darkness. Here, amidst the changlings and fae and other supernaturals, that doesn't stand out as much.

"I'm all right. How are you doing?" Small talk! He knows how to small talk!