[SE] ignis aurum probat

Fox wishes he could say that he was suave and cool in the face of a creature suddenly bellowing in his face. Gods he really does wish he could. Alas, even as a seasoned hunter, he'd been quite enjoying his ramble through the tunnels, and alert is not a word best associated with him in the current moment. So while he does skitter back into something of a defensive posture, his fists raised, it looks nothing short of silly in the face of Deimos and Belial. (Not to mention at least two seconds too late). "Oh, you're fine," he blurts, straightening up and quickly raking his hands back through his hair to disguise the small tremor in them. "I didn't need those nerves anyway. Weren't doing me any good." Huffing out a long breath that puffs out his cheeks and stuffing his hands in his pockets this time, he finally looks at the man and the monster flying stag... other thing in earnest. "Ah, you aren't an Ancient," he says, somewhat foolishly. First impressions are hard, man. fox