Horst cocks his head to one side, puzzled. 'Realtor' isn't a word he knows, nor one he can gist in this context, but something is . . . off here.

"Tea," he hedges carefully, "might be difficult to arrange," and nods meaningfully at the dragon to indicate that that would be rather a lot of tea, don't you think?.

He squints. "Do I . . . know you?"

Horst looks a little more carefully this time, trying to consider the possibilities. A shapeshifter? He hasn't met many people, but --

Had he a beating heart, it might here have skipped one or two of its scheduled beats, as Horst suddenly considers Jason Blood, and the unseen demon lurking in his head. Does it take tea? Does it flutter in the breeze?

Would it really leave him be if it could have gnashed him between its teeth like a schnauzer on a rat?

To that last, probably not.

He squints again at the gold eyes shining bright in the dark.

"Sprechen sie Deutsch?" he tries a little more cannily.