New arrivals had been trickling in, slow but steady. So word of another isn't so strange to Degas now, but he had heard plenty of whispers that this stranger was more curious than most. On his morning stroll, the preacher is about to find out way firsthand.

Admittedly, Degas startles when approached. A step taken back as he considers the odd blue creature - man? - before him. The way he spoke belied caution, and Degas knew he would be remiss without at least addressing the question. So he straightens up but doesn't close the distance between them just yet, smoothing down the fabric of his vest. "Ah...forgive me. You caught me in my morning ruminations. A man and three women, you say? New arrivals such as yourself I presume?"