The sharp glance is met with a sharper look from Draco, one that's all points and glaring irritation. Anyone with eyes can tell that it's mostly a defence mechanism, his way of defending his squishy human body against the strangeness that he's found thus far.

It's odd, of course, that no one's actually attacked him so far, but he's not holding his breath on that. Perhaps there's some kind of long game being played. If it involves his father, though, that opens up a whole new realm of possibility.

After a moment's hesitation, Draco moves, forcing his feet across the sand after Damen. He steals a wary glance behind him, in case he's being flanked, but finds nothing; he focuses, instead, on the other 'man'. "He lives in your guest house?" Draco asks incredulously, perhaps a bit surprised at himself that that was the question he had.

The rest of it seems to sink in afterward. They'd both woken up like Draco had, presumably confused and uncertain. Which did lend itself to the notion of kidnapping, but still, no one had shown up to confess to it. What good was a kidnapping if there were no ransoms made? Carefully, he goes on: "What the hell is going on here?"