A grunt of affirmation is all Astrid hears in response, most likely because the patrol is on its way-- he'd rather not be seen talking to himself, if he's noticed at all.

But he is, and their attention is on him as they pass; there's nothing to specifically mark him as a foreigner, but for all he and Astrid know, someone else is usually hanging around here. Or more conspicuously, no one.

He keeps his eyes down, but they stop in front of him, their voices over Barrow's live crystal as clear as day in Astrid's.
"Waiting for someone?"

"Mm?" he hedges, looking up with an oblivious smile. "Sorry?"