Zenos had been content enough to sit there motionless and silent, for the warmth was the first remotely enjoyable thing that he's managed to experience in this place. That too-familiar nigh-growling of his name is something of shock, enough for him to open his eyes and snap his head forward. This man knows him? Knows him enough to think that this is all something personal.

He frowns deeply, all contentment now gone from him.

"And who are you, to presume yourself so worthy of my pursuit?" If there is any emotion in Zenos's tone, it is annoyance. Here he had briefly begun to entertain what it might be like to dwell somewhere where his reputation and status did not precede him, without a hint of baggage or history hanging over him... and here he is already needing to discard that half-formed hope.