[ He glances back over his shoulder when he's addressed, and stares at the man in question. A part of him wants to be deeply annoyed about the question. What does it look like, huh? It's writing in the snow. But just as quickly as a scowl starts to crease his brow, it fades out again.

Fine. A fair question. He doesn't really have much of a reason for irritation over it.

He gestures to the word, then to himself. ]