Anselm? And again, another name she was glad to not have to pronounce. A last name instead of a full name this time. Her mind churned away at trying to place what area of the world that might have come from. His accent eluded her as well, to her irritation. At least the cyborg was obviously Russian. In the end it didn't matter, but she still cared. After all, she wanted to make a good impression. People like it when other people know things about them, right? Meanwhile, she hadn't noticed Patraeko's strange expression. "I did not expect someone outside of-," the tall woman paused for a moment. "My home, to know sign." she finished after a bit.
"The first part to creating a cohesive squad is social interaction," she signed quickly in response to Anselm's comment. "If you can't trust the person at your back, you'll end up on it." Her eyebrows twitched together a fraction. A sign hovered, half-formed, on her fingers for a moment. The physical equivalent of an awkward 'um.' "By that I mean dead. Or maybe wishing you were dead. Depends on what happens." Her aquamarine-and-jet eye glowed in support of her silent statements. Its hard facets gleamed a little, still wet from the rain outside. She rolled one of her shoulders, shifting the weight of one of her incredibly large swords.
Kayha reached out to shake Anselm's hand with her dominant, left, hand. Her mouth cracked just a little wider - not a smile, but not condescending like a smirk. Reserved excitement, perhaps? Maybe I should show off a little. She doubted that they'd ever met a Flesh-Scribed before, and she'd never met any other kinds of hunters. The part of her mind intrigued by puzzles and knowledge kicked into gear, curious about what exactly her new compatriots would bring to the table when all the chips were down.