A hulking figure with a big black beard and a cheery scarf (matching mittens in his pocket) is in the kitchen, hunched over the stove making stew for everyone to warm up to. He brought coffee too and is rinsing out the ancient pot when the door opens. Before he can get a glimpse of who it is, Bruno the croc-dog hops down off his perch on the table and races into the next room. The hairless, chihuahua-sized creature is wearing a little sweater, hunter green trimmed with red, how festive. He tilts his head up at Blaine before sitting by him near the fire, enjoying the warmth and company both even if this guy smells super weird. If he gets a pet or even a kind word, he could easily look past it.

Frank follows leisurely once the water is brewing for coffee and the elk is left to simmer. The shock of white hair is his first clue that this is no one he's seen before. He has been a little preoccupied lately, maybe he missed a newbie. It's not so unusual for him, really.

"Not used to the weather?" he calls, making an effort to project his voice though it comes out a bit shaky and hoarse anyway. "I'm making coffee." If he wants some, he means, but that's enough words for now.