The young man barely flinches as you say words, but shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders, finally opening his eyes to look at you directly. His eyes are entirely blood red, and he looks at you quite frankly quirking an eyebrow, and folding his arms over his chest, attempting to look hauty.

When he does speak his words are nothing you've ever heard before, "Collitate, netiuy obrik (this word is almost spat out). Etiru martik alush lovitek!"