Koby holds up both hands, an automatic, instinctive gesture of placation. He knows damn well what anxiety looks like -- he's basically the walking definition of it, after all. But trying to be the calm one gives him something to focus on that isn't oh god we're all going to die, so.

"Um. Hi. I'm not -- I'm as lost as you are. My name's Koby. I'm not going to hurt you." Right, because she's obviously deeply concerned about that. Koby's about as intimidating as a bean sprout.

Then, jumping about a mile when the knocking sounds: "Yeah. Yeah, I can hear it."