As the stranger spoke, Woody slightly raised his flashlight in order to better see him -- dark hair, dark eyes, and not at all like a monster. Upon closer inspection, this guy didn't look much older than Andy. The odd feeling of towering over a boy his age wasn't lost on Woody, but he did his best to push that aside for now. As long as he was trapped in this nut house, he'd just have to deal with those sorts of changes (until he got his real body back, anyway).

Still, a small touch of red underneath his nose caught Woody's attention, and the toy couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. The image took him back to a time when Andy had taken a nasty fall off of a swing set, and Mom had to bandage him up while he gulped back tears. Did he cause this kid to bleed like that?

"No, I'm, uhhh--" It took him a moment to find the right words. "Fine. I'm fine." Letting out a breath, Woody lowered his clothes rod to his side. "Anyway, I should be the one apologizing for whacking you like that. I am so sorry." He offered a half-nervous laugh, and he would have awkwardly patted the guy on the shoulder if his hands hadn't been full. As annoyed as he'd been just a moment ago, Woody really did mean it. "Are you okay? Your--" The cowboy gestured to his own face as he gazed at the small injury. "Your nose is kinda..."