The creature had been emptying the last of his drink into his mouth and closing his rather-impressive jaws as an interloper drew his attention.  Yes, interloper, because he had not intended to take any callers at this moment to his being.  He was trying to relax his body and mind after the arduous journey in from...wherever.  The man - the priest - would find the dragon's bulk turning and inclining the head in his direction.  It was somewhat slow and deliberate, as if to say 'Is this really how you intend things?'.  The man had called him unnatural, and then he seemed to think that 'smell' was the best way to describe his basis for saying so.  The dragon in humanoid form lowered his eyelids slightly, beginning to stare at him like a crocodile would to something wholey uninteresting.

"You talk of smell to [i]me[/i], with so little a nose?  Don't make me laugh.  I'm as natural as the setting sun."

This wasn't an argument.  He was stating it as though definitive fact, as though he were telling some foolish human the way of the world.  And as far as he knew, that was how it was.  He was sure of that much.  Dragons were ancient and powerful beings, forged from creation itself.  Of that, he was almost certain.  Just then, there was a thump against the bar, the telltale sound of an armored figure hitting the thing.  The dragon rounded on the figure, shouting!

"Marak, will you watch what you're...!"

He stopped.  It was a paladin, but it wasn't him.  It wasn't even ANY him.  It was a woman and the markings were wrong, anyway.  He'd been expecting another figure, a man of another order who had one eye and never slept.  The dragon clenched his teeth, then put his tankard down on the counter with a growl.

"It's a banner day.  I'm going to need another drink."