Quentin is weak, and he's used to it. He doesn't push for names from either of them, nor for either to stop nipping at each other, not just yet. The blanket around Joan's shoulders and the fact that neither of them is presently lifting up the others skin is victory enough--and finding two people out here is enough for today, even if one person isn't technically brand spanking new. He just shoulders his bag again, much light now, and starts along the path--slowly, until he's sure at least Joan is following.

His gaze sticks back on the third party, though. Hadn't seen the glasses before, and he wonders where they were picked up now. How he found them. Who knows--you lose one sense, you're supposed to balance out all the rest, right? "...No police." He agrees eventually, which naturally prompts the elaboration, "We take care of each other. Discipline and watch each other. If one of you died out here, the other would have had to make it up--especially with no one to bring you back to life."