"Name's Daryl." Probably for the best that he doesn't bother going for a handshake; even his free hand is covered in the stinging alien blood and muck. "Your friend helped me out, but we got separated. Glad he found who he was lookin' for, at least." Not that he'd actually been all that worried about Nick or anything. Maybe a little.

"Your group... doin' good?" he asks, his inexperience with doing the equivalent of friendly small talk making it a bit awkward. "Y'need anything, I mean?" It isn't an outright offer of help, exactly. But Nick had seemed like a decent guy beneath his prickly sarcasm. Decent folks ought to look out for each other, he figures, especially if there's little kids involved.