Okay, so it's not a monster, Carlisle reassures himself. Monsters don't greet you. Well, some do, shades in particular, but that sounded tentative, so she's more likely to be a newcomer. She doesn't want the plant. Hopefully.

Carlisle peers out from behind the top of the counter. Aside from that piece of technology on her back -- Carlisle has lots of unpleasant feelings regarding modern devices of any sort, his communicator included on most days -- she looks less like a threat and more like someone who is as apprehensive as he is. That's a true feat, and... surprisingly comforting.

"Hello," he replies, getting to his feet behind the counter -- he hisses through his teeth, the punctures that remain in his leg still stinging, still bleeding. "Sorry about the, ah. Moment of panic. Thought you might've been something that followed me in here."