The approach doesn't go by unnoticed in the slightest. Not moments before the hand motions at him Hyperion is already expecting some sort of sign, some sort of move, fists tense with his wrists, wary and prepared. The grin leaves him on an experimental state, neither willing to jump in and return the gesture or take the short cut and somehow make the stranger talk. Said stranger looks like he's seen much better days as it is.

"Hey," he mutters, confusion pressing his brows with the ghost of a helpless smile. There's a pause to appreciate the wounds. "Jesus, you're..." Completely fucked. No - let's try a different approach. "Are you okay over there?"