Oh no.

" - I mean, I don't have to, I just don't know what I should be doing and I don't want to be a bother?"

He's never going to understand all that, though. Hmmm. 

Sad pile of shadows remains sad.

All right. Well. There are probably other people somewhere, but she doesn't know where, and until she finds them (or until someone finds her), it's not like she has anything better to do. Especially since this person has got to eat something at some point, so sticking around here probably increases her odds of solving that problem. Time to brute force the language thing.

She points to herself. "Imrainai."

...he looks up, blinking.

It takes him a moment to echo the gesture.

"Saikirei."

"Saikirei," she repeats, smiling.

OK. Think. What words would Ves try to get first?

"Imrainai, Liar," she says, pointing to herself. "Saikirei, Liar," she says, pointing to him, hoping that he is one. 

"Imrainai, Liar," he agrees, and adds a word that might be his translation: "Aisara." Then he pauses. "Saikirei..."

A long, frowning silence; a slow shake of his head. He can't think of a word for what he is, but he's pretty sure it isn't the same as her.

"Saikirei is... Saikirei. Imrainai is aisara."

She points out the door. "Aisara? Saikirei?"

He shakes his head. "Ti. Timahre, taisara, ahya ti mir dimana—ti."

Well, at least she has a word for no now. No is generally a good word to have. 

She's not very sure how to get more words in general - Ves or Mathrael would, if they were here, but here she is instead - but maybe she can solve her other moderately pressing problem. She mimes eating something. "Food?"

He nods comprehendingly, looks thoughtful for a long moment—

—Every shadow in the room ripples and wavers, curling like smoke, like the stuff his cloak is made of.

That's pretty creepy, but, you know, if he doesn't seem creeped out then it's probably either fine or a prelude to attempted murder, and you can't just live your life assuming that every weird alien thing that happens is a prelude to attempted murder.

The shadows return to their dormant state. His cloak flows out onto the floor and spreads into a messy puddle, and he frowns in concentration, and there is a faint rumbling noise like a very distant landslide, and then his cloak retreats, and in the space it was covering there is a long marble platter bearing a freshly grilled fish which if it stood on its tail would be nearly as tall as Imrainai.

"Food," he echoes, with a slightly awkward accent.

" - wow."

She really hopes she gets to tell this story to someone before she gets executed for desertion. No one will ever believe her, but they'll give her points for imagination.

She bows slightly, very little more than a nod, says "thank you," and then gets to work eating some tiny portion of this fish.

The miserable shadow man smiles hesitantly at her.

She smiles encouragingly back at him. She's not super sure what her game plan is here, but it definitely involves being friends with the guy who can create grilled fish with his mind.

He maintains the mutual smile for a few seconds before he looks away and gets distant and sad again.

She goes back to eating her food, at least until she's full. And then she'll tear off a piece and leave it in one of her biosuit's pockets. Maybe if she keeps it in the one by the cooling system it'll keep for longer than a couple hours. This is probably not what biosuit pockets are for, but no one appears to be stopping her.

He blinks in mild surprise, and something that might possibly be a faint shadow of wry amusement, when he sees just how much he overestimated her hunger.

She is in fact not capable of eating her weight in fish. That seems like the sort of thing that could lead to problems. 

She is also not very good at coming up with words that she can easily communicate. She could give the word for the fish, except she doesn't have a word for fish, and has in fact never seen a fish before today. 

This could be hard.

The next set of words that comes to her is the set of relational directions; she gives him up, down, ahead, behind, left, and right, by pointing. She doesn't know if those are in any way useful, but at least they're something.

He offers his own translations of those words, but seems sort of halfhearted about it. Maybe he's just really depressed. It would definitely be consistent with the evidence to surmise that he is really depressed.

He does in fact seem really depressed. Under normal circumstances she would ask if he wanted to be left alone, or if he wanted to talk about it, or whatever, but she can't do that right now and she won't be able to do that until she has more words, so they're just gonna have to tough it out. She repeats each of his words several times, attempting to commit them to memory.

It occurs to her that he has not left his chair over the course of their entire interaction. This might mean that he's just really depressed. Or that he likes being in the chair. Given the weird bond between him and the building, though, it might also mean that he can't.

She sits, and gives her word for sitting. She stands, and gives her word for standing.

He nods along and offers his own translations.

"Can Saikirei stand?"

He seems to correctly guess the nature of the question; he nods, slowly, and then demonstrates this capacity.

...he's really tall. About seven feet tall, in fact. His cloak flows around him like whirling smoke.

He sits down again.

"Saikirei can stand. Good."

Annnd now she's not entirely sure where to take this interaction. He's mobile, but he doesn't seem very mobile, so she can probably come back here for food again after she runs out. She's not going to learn his whole language in a day, so maybe she'd better think about what she can ask while she explores the terrain further. She leaves a little silver button on the floor where she's standing, then gets her computer to mark the beacon's location.

"Imrainai go," she says, motioning out the door. "Imrainai come back," she says, with the reverse motion.