Now that they're inside and away from immediate 'danger' (such as it is) he relaxes slightly, and of course Ned's hand on his shoulder helps a bit. Turning around to look at the store, he thinks he can see why Ned's startled (although of course, he couldn't know the full extent of it, not really) because, wow, that's a whole lot of dead animals in one place. His eyes widen slightly, taking in the cluttered displays, and he shakes his head in disbelief at just how ridiculous this had all suddenly become.

"That," he says, going back to the dramatic voice, although slightly more subdued and quiet now that they're in a store, and the proprietor is behind the counter, staring at the both of them, obviously hoping they'll buy something. "That was a man I don't need to make up a story for. That was Morris Ginsberg. Last name not a coincidence. That," he continues, perhaps unnecessarily, "was my father."

He says it like it's the most horrifying person he can possibly imagine running into on the street, and to be fair, at the moment, it really is.