[ how curious. with syrupy arithmetic in his dark eyes, he glances from the face of the stranger, still keeping it in his perspective, to the tendrils that coil over his skin like too many prehensile knives, devoid of the body heat they would have if freshly carved from animal or man. he doesn't hate the sensation — but he sees the quagmire of it, that if he would foolishly yank his hand back in fright or defense, he would go against every spine ready to embed themselves into his skin like a bladed finger trap. they slip beneath the fabric of his oversized sweatshirt that hogs the fighter's silhouette of him, making him look less dangerous. ]

[ he wonders if he looks less dangerous. all he offers in return for that lack of accountability is a deliberating hum. ]

See... the problem is, [ he starts as his other hand moves delicately slow towards his captive one. rather than attempt to pry it free, he runs his well-callused fingerprints down the length of the curve connecting him to Tyki. ] You can't walk right now.

[ there's a puddle of shadow beneath his foot; it has strange eyes that don't blink peeping out of the darkness, and one strangely defined and misshapen jaw that roughly circles one of Tyki's feet with a mangled gaggle of razor-sharp teeth raising out of the resort's floor like a rocky sea stack waiting for ships to break their bows upon. like a bear-trap, should the pressure be removed, the jaws will snap shut in an instant. ]

How shall we resolve this? [ like he's speaking from one pet owner to another... but if he isn't in control of this creature that has now worked its way half up his forearm, perhaps it's best to leave those kinds of comments behind his tongue. ] If I dismiss it, can I trust you to walk away calmly with me?