"What other people think or believe of my abilities means nothing to me. I know what I can do. Little else matters. Your beliefs change nothing to me."

He scratches his claws over the wood, making marks that are almost certainly the words of his home tongue, archaic and spiked shapes, similar to the marks on his scarf. "We are natural enemies. If not for the constraints of this cursed and miraculous city, I would have shad this corpse and dragged him from that husk of yours. But I cannot, so it is moot."