Colors

Kylar's smile was not precisely condescending, but it was that and something like pity. As if he were some lion looking down on a mouse who had strayed too close to his paw.

"Really?" He asked, somewhat surprised. "We're not well known. And we're not like werewolves," he corrected the very second she dared to think it. "Not even a little. None of the same weaknesses or anything. We could not be more different. But that's fine; I forgive your ignorance."

She asked the million dollar question. Did he consider himself special? But she asked it in reference to his species, which was still an interesting question to delve into. And while some of her thoughts weren't directed at him, Kylar would still respond to them as if they were, just as he had been doing. It was fun.

"Depends on who you ask. To another Crocotta who wants to continue our species, I'm certainly special. To most people? No. How do you define special? Unique? Different? Something worthy of respect? I can't answer any of that.

"I am different. Maybe not in the best of ways." Then he grinned. "I am attractive, I agree. But just because someone can outwit you doesn't make their personality lacking, dear."

Kylar winked.