Not knowing that dragons exist really only means one thing - that this man, whoever he is, is a rifter like himself. Almost automatically, let his eyes drop to the other man's hand, looking for the tell-tale green glow that would mark him as someone with a shard. He has it as well, but since currently his hands are covered by leather gauntlets, made from the same dragonskin as the rest of his armour, it might be a bit harder to notice.

On the other hand, they're easy enough to remove, and he starts to contemplate if it might not be a good idea to do that now to help with the explanation that's probably coming. That thought doesn't last long, though, because the moment he hears his name, his head snaps up, the narrow-eyed expression that'd been and gone back again, as though it'd never left.

"Aye, I'm Jamie. How do you know my name?"