-> The ink streak of their pupil in the center of orange ocular constricts when they turn their head towards the light and him, cat-like in their unblinking quality as they hold stock still on the edge of a cobbled street. He looms over them with a hulk common in those in their line of work but uncommon in an average human, and there is a pressure on the back of their skull that makes them cautious of him. Like the barometric pressure change before a storm front, they expect an aching in their bones before they have spoken; Lyric's eyes narrow slightly when he speaks first.
"... ... I thought you were something else, but I suppose not. It's my mistake."
-> It's impossible to discern someone's whole heritage at a glance, after all. Even Lyric takes care to wear their glamour bracelet when they're in an unknown city that hides their scales & horns & tail away from the average man———it is only those with true sight and strong magic that see them for who they are. ( though Lyric would firmly contest they are human at their core, no matter how genetics or ancestry has warped them. their father was a steel-working man, their mother was a singer: both were human for the most of it. they had been as normal a human child as any other. )
"Forgive my rudeness, Sir."
@xfulmen from ask.
