Five went years without the luxury of eating for the sake of more than bare-basic survival. How good something was or wasn't really didn't matter, he just had to make sure he didn't die that day. Every day. For forty-five years. It was a rough and exhausting time, but he learned a number of useful skills in all that time, too. Skills he's glad to have, especially now that he's found himself in this strange, frozen tundra of a town.

"Like I said- easy." he nods a little. If watching that minor display affects him at all, it's hard to tell. Is a metal prosthetic really the strangest thing he's ever seen? No. It barely registers as more than just that- a prosthetic.

He tips his head to the side a little, "What am supposed to call you, anyway? You remember a name yet?"