Dolos stared at the new addition to the table, scowling as the hairs brushed
the clay. Light marks appeared on his work and he had to refrain himself from
replicating the imperfections on the intruder. Instead he nudged away the wig
and lifted his eyes. The sight before him brought out a chuckle.
“My, this is a surprise.”
She smirked, but the mirth did not touch the eyes behind her dark shades. “The girls are wondering what you are, and they don’t like to be kept waiting.” There was a collective hiss from the mane of green. “They don’t like the smell of you."