Looking from the brandished man-cleaver, then back to you, the pregnant pause is shattered by an "Oooh!" that is startlingly loud in the cramped room. "Can you help me?!" the creature asks in a shrill voice. As quiet as he was before, he now becomes equally opposite. "I've been running from some demons for a while now and I'm looking for a safe place to stay! Your little fort here looked sturdy enough from the outside." Testing the hardness of the floor by stomping one leather-padded foot on the flagstones, he is seemingly unthreatened by the axe in your hand and the dire nature of his situation in general as he rambles. Without waiting for a response from the doorway-filling warrior, he relaxes, adopting a casual, slouching stance, and continues, "Sorry about that little trick earlier, hee-hee, I thought you might have been one of them. You're big enough to be, anyway. Ha! HA! But I don't think you are. Your eyes are different from theirs." He squints at you, rubbing his fuzzy chin, then apparently becomes more interested in smelling his own fingers.