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Octavio's small step backwards was almost a hop. A quartet of fingers tore the air in front of his nose. 

[color=dde0c7]"Projection. Three syllables."[/color] His eyes lolled as he confirmed it to be the right number. [color=dde0c7]"They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but it's the weakest form of charm. Everyone has a distorted view of the people around them. Your job is to determine and pine for that, not exact similitude. Amateurs."[/color] One of the Lord Ru'Tevs swiped at him a second time, once again only missing by a hair. 

At a distance was Lynx, observing the rest of the party recover from Tayla's incident the way humans observed primates. The two were approaching the lift at a relaxed pace, but the sudden conversation from her still caught him off-guard.  

[color=#ffff66]"Unwanted surly behavior from Octavio should not be a concern. He favors those of a tasteful persuasion."[/color]

The familiar turned his head towards the man, and was met with the sight of him critiquing the chameleons. Lynx regretted having spoken. It was so easy for onlookers to view Octavio as the gracious man entertaining a familiar's delusions, Lynx thought, when it was clearly the opposite. Perhaps one day they would cross paths with another psychotic deity, one that would have them swap bodies. The man was far more suited to the life of a feline. He was practically pawing at the metal bars. 

[color=#ffff66]"Weirdo. That would be an accurate term."[/color] Not that Lynx didn't understand colloquialisms. The familiar simply once lived in a library, and those were places where phrases such as 'curses!' or 'by the gods!' made their appearance more frequently than the four letter word Tayla nearly... [i]graced[/i] the party with. Weirdo seemed more interesting than the others he'd heard of. Newer, and possibly more appropriate. An idea struck him. One that would not have occurred to him under normal circumstances. 

[color=#ffff66]"I want to know more of this world's... colorful language."[/color]