[Michael]

Michael had been just beginning to enjoy his evening when it seemed the universe saw fit to draw chaos his direction. The instant he merely scented that aggressive aroma, his ears went back against his head and he let out a low, long suffering sigh. What was it now..? He'd had plenty of hatred from other races- but this one smelled like his own.

The tone alone made him straighten himself up unwittingly and out of habit, shoulders poised as his hands splayed along the table; as though he were getting ready to begin furious work at his sewing machine. A slip one way or another would take the tip of a finger and thread it mercilessly.

The question though, had the hair at the back of his neck standing on end, and he turned to look at this stranger who saw fit to use the same tone his mother always had when he was a kit. "Not that I don't appreciate the so nostalgic tone of disapproval; but what have I done Sir to warrant such a sudden and rude tone? I'm sure we're not acquainted enough for you to have that privilege." He fairly bristled, tone sharp, fingertips pressing into the tablecloth if only to keep them from jumping up to slap the intruder's face. He didn't care who he was- Nobody got to speak to him as though they were disapproving parents. He'd had enough of those already.