Ishiah wasn't close to most of the people he ran across on the island. Most days, he passed the majority of people by without more than a slight nod of his head in acknowledgment, and sometimes not even with that when he was busy at work with some task. So when the movement had first registered in his peripheral vision, Ishiah hadn't paid it much mind, until he realized who it was and turned, with some surprise, to give Buffy his full attention. She was one of the few he'd kept a close watch on, for a time. And in those months, he'd come to develop some sort of sentiment for her, a fierce protectiveness and desire to keep her safe, even happy if he could manage it. Ishiah didn't feel very adept at the latter, though.

"Buffy," he greeted with a soft nod, before his expression turned into one of greater confusion, perhaps even a touch of horror as he cast wide eyes toward the bookshelf. "I don't think that's... it isn't possible. I can't— well, I am capable of procreating on the island, or so I've heard, but I'm pretty sure I would have the opposite. Role."