@thewizardguy
The Predator, startled by his immediate change in environment, held a decaying head, the equally decrepit spine loosely hanging from it. His claws on the armband adorning his left wrist were bloodied and extended, and upon noticing this singular being and most if not all of everything accompanying it in this place that nearly blinded the alien's thermal vision, he snarled loudly, translating to "Damn it all! You interrupt my hunt at such an hour?!" As he loudly vocalizes his distress, he stands, throwing the yellowed and rotting trophy to the ground with a crunchy splat. He holds his left arm outward, the claws pointed at the fluid-like lifeform(?) as his helmet's filtered vision automatically adjusts. "Hell's... Coffee Lounge? What is this place?", he sternly inquired in his native tongue, immediately aware it will translate through the barrage of speech and meaning he was quietly assaulted with in this figure's voice. He took note of as many of the people, animals, spirits and definitely otherwise as he could within the establishment, but the sheer number of them and the size of this environment did in fact nearly overload the Predator. He staggered slightly, his claws lowering and shoulder-mounted cannon flailing about in the direction of thing after thing as he marked and read heat signatures, vital information, and otherwise over and over and over. Placing a hand to his helmet's forehead, he forced another automatic adjust upon noticing many of the things here were far too powerful to think of attacking and surviving an encounter with. His vision finally is filtered through a clear, non-modified visor as he addresses the liquid-looking person(?) once more. "Tell me more about where I am. I have important things to do." He purred and clicked somewhat loudly, replacing the dual blades on his wrist with a singular, serrated edge.
The Predator, startled by his immediate change in environment, held a decaying head, the equally decrepit spine loosely hanging from it. His claws on the armband adorning his left wrist were bloodied and extended, and upon noticing this singular being and most if not all of everything accompanying it in this place that nearly blinded the alien's thermal vision, he snarled loudly, translating to "Damn it all! You interrupt my hunt at such an hour?!" As he loudly vocalizes his distress, he stands, throwing the yellowed and rotting trophy to the ground with a crunchy splat. He holds his left arm outward, the claws pointed at the fluid-like lifeform(?) as his helmet's filtered vision automatically adjusts. "Hell's... Coffee Lounge? What is this place?", he sternly inquired in his native tongue, immediately aware it will translate through the barrage of speech and meaning he was quietly assaulted with in this figure's voice. He took note of as many of the people, animals, spirits and definitely otherwise as he could within the establishment, but the sheer number of them and the size of this environment did in fact nearly overload the Predator. He staggered slightly, his claws lowering and shoulder-mounted cannon flailing about in the direction of thing after thing as he marked and read heat signatures, vital information, and otherwise over and over and over. Placing a hand to his helmet's forehead, he forced another automatic adjust upon noticing many of the things here were far too powerful to think of attacking and surviving an encounter with. His vision finally is filtered through a clear, non-modified visor as he addresses the liquid-looking person(?) once more. "Tell me more about where I am. I have important things to do." He purred and clicked somewhat loudly, replacing the dual blades on his wrist with a singular, serrated edge.
