He looks down at his feet in shame, and points at his feet. The shadow puppet flows down to his shoes, and seethes there like a black furnace. He appears to be enshrouded in a dark mantel, the glowing eyes of the living darkness narrowing with hatred at the gathering power in Cara's hand. He snaps his fingers, and the darkness coils around him like a cloak. She hears a hiss in her head, like nails on a chalkboard, grating in her brain. He grabs at his lapel, like he's clasping the latch of a cloak or cape, and the darkness goes still. He lets out a heavy breath. [i]"I'm sorry.....he was just defensive."[/i] He bows deeply at the waist. [i]I'll need to feed him soon...[/i]