Besides making a vague, halfhearted attempt to shoo it away with a wave of an arm, Andrew ignores the crow. His attention is taken up instead by his surroundings -- Earth, obviously, or a very good approximation thereof. He climbs to his feet, legs shaky with the chill, and sticks his tongue out to taste the air.

"Earth?" he asks himself, having retracted his tongue upon remembering that his sense of taste is no longer good enough for that. He ruffles his own hair, turning on the spot to look around. "I'd say that's impossible, but obviously...."

He frowns, and the turning of his head becomes sharper, more deliberate, as he starts looking for something -- or rather, someone specific.