"Yeah, no worries." No actual damage done, he was much more okay with raised hackles than he was with actual violence being enacted. Especially if it was directed at him. He swallows, shrugs his shoulders, arms crossed over his chest.

"Your eyes went gold." It's a hushed whisper, too quiet for human hearing, and he knows he doesn't want to know, doesn't want to have this conversation. But fuck, he's never seen that before, and he can't entirely resist a puzzle.