Grim didn't acknowledge Criston greeting, mostly because he was too focused on his drawing. He didn't even notice the gaggle of noisy brats that seemed to be dragging in a rather annoyed Dryad, the being's soul told him anything. What he did notice was one of the little brats bumping into him, causing his oh so steady pen hand to scratch across the page, leaving a fine black line right in the middle of his work. He stared in cold silence at the ruined piece, thinking of the many hours he had spent on getting thedetails just right, only for a pack of stupid, ill-behaved brats to ruin it. To say that he was mad would be a vast understatement. The cloak began to writhe and undulate around in a faster, more active, more sinister fashion as he set his sketchbook down, stalking over to the main group of brats, a cold chill running up their spines as they turned to face him. His face was hidden behind a grotesque a terrifying mask reminiscent of a skull in mid-decay, the exactness and accuracy of such making the children whimper in fright. When he spoke, Grimm's voice would come out both quiet and loud at the same time, distorted by the mask and his rage to sound a lot deepe and menacing than it normally did. [color=DarkBlue]"If you brats value your souls, then you'll get out of my sight befoe I rip them from your putrid excuse for a carcass!"[/color] To emphasis the point, he summoned his scythe, which had taken an equally terrifying appearance as it was covered in rotted bones and the blade jutted out of the fanged maw of a monstrous skull, the dead eyes of the beast still in place and looking down at the children with contempt and hunger. The dreadful sight and threat sent the children out of the inn screaming their bloody little heads off. After they were gone, Grimm calmed himself down, causing both his scythe, his mask, and his cloak to take on a much more plain appearance, with the skull mask becoming vastly simplified and the scythe varing only a plain Ivory shaft and a gleaming silver blade the seemed to radiate a soft, comforting glow. [color=LightBlue]"If there is one thing I hate, it's people who mess up my drawings."[/color] His voice was normal now, a smooth one that eased into the ears like a whisper, sticking in the mind a second longer than normal. He then abrutly turned around without a word and walked back to his seat, taking another look at the ruined drawing to see if it could be salvaged in anyway, or if he could make the mistake work for the picture. [@c3p-0h] [@chukklehed] [@Driving Park] [@Nytem4re]