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[ this is the second time now someone has approached to give therion some kind of warning about this place. who knows if its out of the kindness of their hearts, or the nosiness of their business, or the gods only know what else, but one thing is clear: they don't know him at all.

and that's fine. he doesn't think he really gives off any aura besides "street rat", from the moth-bitten poncho and the clothing holding on by threads to the cadence and attitude he carries himself with when he's not pretending to be someone else, but here we are. in reality: therion's been more 'comfortable' in kowloon so far than any of the cities topside.

so he regards this warning for a long moment and fixes d with a look, like he's garnering a full understanding of him and his bearings before he snorts. warn him, he says. ] Oh yeah? Why's that?