Francis peers at the stranger for a moment and considers the idea that he must be losing his bearings to be caught so unawares by the storm that's growing worse by the minute. Pulling his coat tighter around him, Francis nods his head up the road, in the general direction of town.

"Come on, then. Lest we become buckets, collecting the rain as we are." Then he begins the climb up the small hill, boots catching in the mud. Turning back, he can see the dog following closely behind them both, as though wary of their new traveling companion. "That's Neptune there," Francis says, taking notice of the wary manner Neptune had been regarded. "And yourself?"