He paused before the door and checked himself, patting down his ‘robes’ made from linens, his cloak, his hood, his veil, and his gloves. His horns were still in place. He was forgetting something… Oh right, the gait. He stooped over and leaned on his staff and forced a few coughs out, forcing his voice to go hoarse. He’d probably not pass for a minotaur in the prime of his life, but an old taur? Maybe he could get away with that. He knocked on the door.