Luis
The Drama continued to watch Amos, closing in silently to get closer and closer looks on the creature set before him. Maybe, he thought, he was a poor mix between a red and pale Oni. His odd mix-matching of skin tones and the strange presence of spiny red horns on such a starkly white background could easily be explained away by that. Still, it wouldn't explain his slender, almost Silnarian frame. He had seen starving Oni before, and none of them looked quite as thin as Amos. Oh, and now that he was closer he could smell something too...

Now, he was never particularly good at this, identifying folks by their smell. It was a skill he was trying to pick up, as it was somewhat useful, but not one he was hard pressed to hone, as it was rather niche. However, the scent he picked up was... Mixed. It was primarily elf, which he found odd, then a mixture of various other more muddied smells, like Oni and Oriate... Elf. That word rang in his mind. Of course, he thought. Normally, he'd like to write off that a man as handsome as Amos had simply gotten his clothes covered in the pheromones of an elf he wooed, but the scent was so overpowering that there was no way that was the case. Things got more and more interesting by the second, and he thought back to his grafting example.

*...Like an apple tree that suddenly becomes a cherry tree part of the way through,* Did this have any merit? After all, he was shaped like an elf, he had the natural beauty of an elf, and he smelled very strongly of elf. However, the features that made him first think that he might be an Oni almost seemed out of place, as if they were a genetic afterthought. He stifled a chuckle. How how interesting this was.

What slipped his mind, though, is, perhaps, maybe the Drama had gotten too close.
Johnny
The Drama around other pcs: Bumbling fucking idiot
Pearl
A few things may have worked to force The Drama to move in closer. For one, Amos laying down in the tall grass made it a bit trickier to get a good view of the odd amalgamation of... Whatever he seems to be. Another issue was his scent, somewhat cleaned up by the wash he'd taken not long ago, but still muddled by the earth, grass and his own clothes that held the distant scent of a flower and the local folks that he had interacted with. Not near as strong as his own, but there underneath everything. Other features could help confirm The Drama's theory; The pale hair was a rather prominent feature shared by High Elves in particular.

Resting under the traveling cloak, he couldn't shake the subtle alarm that made him even his breathing and count his heartbeats that came too fast. His skin felt prickly and his fingers, and even toes ached. Laying on his side he felt his nails grow hidden under the cloak even as he kept his face relaxed. If someone was going to attack him where he lay, then there wasn't much of a point in showing his cards so readily, now was there?

Inhaling softly he focuses on his hearing and picks up the soft, furtive footsteps and the hiss of grass moving. Divorcing himself from the deep seated stress he was beginning to feel, Amos waits patiently until he feels the sounds have grown close enough that, if he sat up, he would see who it was. Then? Well, then he treats it the same way he did the stalker in the city.

Amos sits up, keeping the clawed hand hidden and raising his normal one to rub his head, then looks at The Drama and blinks. Well he ought not be surprised, and this one did not in fact have a pig mask on. "I don't remember ordering room service," He quips, tone light and smirking as he falls back on the best defense he has.