Lach falters for a moment, realisation dawning on him. He always was slow on the uptake.
People. He was talking to people. An actual human being!
Even better, he was real! Looking through his Hawking Site, the red lens over his left eye, Lach could see that the man wasn't an impersonator, he wasn't surrounded in any sort of holographic disguise!
Shock overcomes his caution, his hand moving away from the bowstring, the blue arrow and bowstring disappearing with a crackle and spark of static electricity. "S-sorry," he murmurs, "I'm not really used to... crowds much, lately."
The bow itself, whilst being a primitive weapon, is also fitted with a hunting scope in its' center, more for a set of crosshairs than a zoom. The bow also seems to be intricately carved from a dark, almost black wood that glints like metal under the light.
Lach looks over his shoulder at his back, the blood running into his pants. "I think I might be able to handle this..." Lach replies, feeling more confident in his concentration after finally having found another portal.
Lach reaches into a small leather satchel on the right side of his hip, big enough to carry a large laptop computer. The front of the pouch adorned with two triangles meeting at their tip in the shape of an hourglass.
C'mon, magical super healing cream! Lach thinks, brow furrowed in concentration, "Heck give me Wolverine's healing abilities, if you can, anything!" The boy mutters out loud to himself.
"Doubt it, though. You've always left me high and dry with nothing but leaves, vines and my old shirts to work with!" he continues, out loud.
The boys body, whilst toned and tan at first glance, shows scars in numerous places, some faint, others not so much, especially around his chest. For the most part, however, the worst of his scars are covered by his reed breastplates. The boy is more wiry than muscular, looking more agile than solid.
Apart from the bow, pants, bandanna, leather satchel, lenses and breastplate, the boy carries no other equipment with him.