It takes all of his control to not just drop the pan and turn around. Both his self protective instincts and his fan boy desires tell him that this is the correct course of action when there is a sudden surge of magical energy behind him that is now most definitely identified as a Seraas. However, his self discipline keeps his hands moving after only a slight pause in hesitation. Finishing the song, it had almost been over anyways, he takes a calming breath before speaking softly, continuing to cook as to not ruin the food. 

“I thought it only appropriate as most of the actual greetings have been lost over time, and I found that the one for your kind is one who's words have likewise been taken by time.” He knows his speech is a little formal, given the almost lighthearted words from the beast, but in his nervousness he feels the urge to be careful least his delight lead him to just run over and glimpse the creature. [i]'Male, it sounds male. I wonder what it looks like right now. It definitely got bigger, the magic shift, he's changed form. Ooohhhh, I wanna loooook!'[/i] Suppressing a whine he carefully continues cooking, making sure everything is perfect.

Once the meal is close to completion he pauses long enough to pull out plates, catching a small sliver of the creature out of the corner of his eye as he turns to do so, but ever the serious man when it comes to his duties he does not actually turn to look and instead begins filling the plates. [i]'He looks small, around my age, but obviously he's older. It's not like we age the same or anything'[/i] Once the plates are filled with breakfast – scrambled eggs with cheese and a tasty variety of peppers and meats – he finally turns to look at his guest and smiles softly, doing his best to not grin like and idiot. After saying the proper words he hands the plate and a fork to the Seraas and picks up his own plate to begin eating. 

[i]'This is so surreal. . . .There is a Seraas, and ancient spirit of my people, [b]in my house[/b], and here I am just eating breakfast. . . And staring'[/i] His eyes drop as he thinks this, realizing he's being rude, at least by human standards. With a polite wave of his hand, the one holding the fork, he indicates his house and says, “I welcome you to my home Seraas. What's mine is yours. May I. . . .inquire as to how you prefer to be addressed?” His speech becomes formal again, but this time he chides himself, willing himself to relax. It does not help that the form before his eyes is an attractive one. While not self conscious, he's never been good around people, let alone ones he finds appealing.