[At the question, the man with the large, colorful moth wings pauses and takes a long, deliberate glance around their surroundings as if to ask where is this man’s guardian

and why on earth did they allow him to wear that in public—]

Mm — pass, I’m afraid! You’re not my usual type.

[Brutal.

And yet, still. What a strange fellow. Oberon places a hand on his hip, cape half-thrown over his shoulder as he sizes the weirdo up and down]

I do have to say, this feels a little underwhelming if you weren’t willing to commit to the beard, too.