It's hard not to stare, it really is. Logically, he knows he hasn't seen everything, but damn if he suddenly feels like his CV didn't need this included. What is it? His mind is racing through possibilities. Feet like some sort of deer, the tale of a wolf, the hands of a man, the face--a horse? A horse skull on an eagle's neck. It's a monstrosity, that's what it is. But it's that voice that, strangely, seems the most out of place.

Oh great, it's been watching me. He knows his senses are compromised, but it's not that fun to be confronted with it by the (supposed) enemy. His gaze turns from surprised to skeptical immediately as he raises the machete to hold it out instead. He's not going to make the mistake and turn his back on it, no matter how congenial it's trying to be.

"I'm having a hard time with that, yeah," he agrees. "You're telling me that you just...wait out here and play Good Samaritan?"