Xichen blinks slightly, as the combination of colors on the young man - from his hair down to the cargo pants - is very bright. But then he raises his hands and cups them at him in greeting, manners too deeply ingrained to be distracted from.

"Young master Galo. Many thanks - I understand that there are limits to answers." Gently, because the fall of his face is clear enough. Someone has been lost. And the recovery of the smile, though much more like young master Wei's than his own, is familiar too, almost the first familiar thing about this place. He knows the cost of it.

"First," he hesitates, but one hand gestures towards the train, and he has to stifle the wince at catching the color and shape of his own sleeve once again, "could you tell me what that is?"

The number of things that are strange for him is already very great. Starting from the biggest one makes sense, no?