The tinkling of the bell registers somewhat, but the grumbling of his stomach means Salem's a little more focused on whether he wants chicken and waffles, or hashbrowns with the works. The decision, however, gets put off when the newest arrival takes a seat next to him.

It's only after she speaks that Salem briefly glances back to the windows, and notices that the smattering of people who were there when he entered are trying their very best to not get noticed.

"Oh yeah?" When he turns his head back, he's grinning now, showing off a mouth full of pointed teeth. "You sayin' the hunt can't wait for a bit? I'm starving."
Salem's own accent is... a little unplaceable, perhaps. It smacks of cold and foggy forests of pine, of dark nights and crackling fires. Not a local either, clearly.