[Even though Katurian assumes that Mitsuhide is wearing elaborate makeup and a costume, there's still something about the way he tears into his hand that makes him shudder. Maybe it's because his ears looked so life-like just moments ago, or maybe there was something about the sounds (the crunch, the tear) that were a little too organic.

Relax, he tells himself. Nobody would actually hurt themselves like that, especially not to help a stranger stand up.

He lets himself get pulled to his feet, wincing despite the care that Mitsuhide takes. Once he's finally upright, he doubles over with his eyes squeezed shut, taking a moment to fight off the pain. It really does feel like every inch of his skin is on fire, or perhaps like his muscles are actually jagged rocks scraping against his bones. He speaks through gritted teeth.]

That -- might be enough, telling -- telling a large group of people. That might count.

[He steels himself with a deep breath, then straightens out his back.]

O-Or maybe you'd need to write it down anyway, just to be thorough. For, like, record keeping purposes. [An embarassed pause.] I don't really k-know how those sorts of laws work. It didn't matter until recently.

[He puffs out a pained laugh, wrapping his arms around his chest. For the first time, he really takes in the landscape. Even the trees beyond the beach look unfamiliar.]

God, I'm freezing. Did you wake up here, too?