The door opened again, not long after the guard--he thought the name on the vest said Bjornson?--Bjornson had left him in a barely concealed panic, and he could hear the shuffling footsteps of people burdened with a heavy weight. A person, no doubt. He sat back against one wall, legs crossed at the ankles in front of him like he was enjoying a coffee on a sunny pier somewhere, not in a local high-security holding cell. [I]Local[/I] high-security, that was the kicker. There were highly specialized prisons sprinkled around the world, and those would have given Rohaan concern. But not these low-ball small-timers who thought they could contain him. Somewhere in an office nearby, a captain was probably opening his bottom desk drawer to reveal a secret stash of a mid-shelf bourbon and two kitchy rocks glasses that looked like they came from a thrift store, or grandma's cabinet. He was likely pouring one for himself and his lieutenant, chuckling and congratulating himself on the successful capture of Rohaan Ja'aisen, global criminal. 

But he was wrong. Dead wrong. There was a reason Rohaan had never seen death row, and there was a reason it was such an accomplishment to have him in custody. The shapeshifter was elusive, hard to track, viciously violent, and wildly unpredictable. And if anyone did manage to capture him...well...he was about to show these schmucks how terribly out of their league they really were.

The fellow prisoner spoke and he looked up. He knew that voice. Sure enough, Alexa was unceremoniously tossed inside the cell next to his. He didn't know the girl terribly well--they'd crossed paths a few times and teamed up briefly. She was an ally, though he didn't know all that much about her or where she came from, or what she was really capable of. Berlin would like her. The big man would sit her down with a hot cup of mint tea and ask after her story and her abilities with fervent earnestness, if he ever met her. 

"Ah, Alexa. They got you too?" He smiled. Rohaan had a very rough, verging into 'vagabond' kind of appearance, but his smile could be charming if he didn't pour any menace into it. He was not especially tall or large for a man his age, though he was certainly quite lean and evidently lived a very active lifestyle. His hair, which he usually kept tied back in a disaster of a bun, was a straw blonde and couldn't decide if it wanted to lie in corkscrews or loose waves, or perhaps somewhere in between, though his skin tone was just a little darker than one might expect for a blonde man. He nearly exuded a 'Californian surfer' vibe with the combination, except his faint and unidentifiable accent proved he wasn't from anywhere near California, or even the States. His beard was short but always a little scraggly, like he needed to trim it but hadn't yet gotten the time. Still, his eyes were always his most striking feature. 

The shifter sighed. "This team was a little more prepared than most, I'll admit. But they're still amateurs. They have absolutely no idea what they're dealing with...especially if they let you keep your shoes..." He shook his head. "Well, I'll be straight with you, I'm not firing on all cylinders here, they got me pretty good. I got beat, shocked, and dosed this evening. Hope they treated you a little better. But I could pull it together, especially if it means I could get myself an actual bed and a hot meal. Moon and stars, what I wouldn't give for a hot bowl of pho right now..." He sighed wistfully. 

"Think you can get these fields down? That seems like your kind of specialty. If you can get them down, then I can deal with Bjornson at the door, over there." He hooked a thumb towards the door. "I don't know if you've done this before, but as soon as our mate out there goes down, sirens are gonna start blaring and agents are gonna start pouring in. I'll deal with them if you can get a nearby window--a large one, if possible--open by any means necessary. And then uh...you aren't afraid of heights, are you? How uh, how do you feel about flying?" 

Rohaan was capable of many forms, both humanoid and animal, but his favorite was the cyradan. It was a small species of dragon that, when found in the wild, was often seen nesting on seaside cliffs. Unlike the much larger mountain dragons, cyradan were not heavily armored and their scales were smooth and snakelike, and matte black like anodized aluminum. It made them vulnerable to attack, but they were lithe and light as a result. They were a nocturnal species that hunted by stealth, speed, and maneuverability. In the sky, it seemed only a swallow could outmatch a cyradan. They were capable of breathing fire, but not in drawn out gusts of inferno like their larger cousins, and instead spat an incendiary gel that splattered and was difficult to remove. The shape suited Rohaan for its balance of power and sleek maneuverability and grace, and despite its relative size, it was the easiest form for him to hold. All shifters had a form that seemed almost natural to hold and yet was not their own; his people called it a [I]talys[/I], or 'true alternate'.