[Normally, he'd probably just write this guy off as coming up with an excuse for why he was following him. Perhaps, he doesn't have the guts to take him on now that he's realize he can't get the jump on him, and is trying to slink away. Tartaglia has a million different thoughts as to why the guy is being cordial with him, and he definitely doesn't trust him as far as he can throw him.

But for some reason, his gut tells him that despite his logic saying otherwise, this guy is telling him the truth. He lets his muscles relax, no longer on edge to fly into a fist fight, but he's still wary.]

I've got my own reasons for being here, [he begins,] but you're right, I'm not from around here. Look, it's a little strange for someone who's been following me around like you were to try to strike up a friendly conversation, but I'm willing to let it go and start over.

[He holds out a hand, even if he's ready for anything, for a handshake.]

I'm Tartaglia. It's a pleasure.