The man presses a bloodied hand to the wall adorned with paper flyers and speaks in a language Sirius has never heard. There's an air of expectation just before the man's eyes land on Sirius's again, or perhaps eye is a better description as one socket is nothing but black.

"What have I done?" Sirius replies, lips curling into a scowl to match that of the man before him. "I've just gone out for a stroll, mate. You're the one who's just popped up. What have you done to your hand?"