It's really not a pleasant sound, like the sound of a plastic bag straining from being torn or when a dumpster truck runs its compactor and an unfortunate piece of board moans in protest as it's crushed to pieces. The hairs raise sharply on the back of his neck, and he has to fight a shudder as he huffs out in discomfort, puff white breath clinging to the air as it floats off and away. He's turning his head before he thinks, trying to figure out where the sound originated. A dissonant screech slithers after. It's down the road to his right.

"Hello?" The shadows usually don't make fuss with the surroundings. It must be another person who's been stranded here too. "Is. Is someone over there?"

Eliot heads over, every other step clipped by the tap of his cane against the pavement. He raises his right hand, gesturing a few poppers to prepare a defense. Just in case.

"Are you hurt?"