"Draenai," answered the spider. And for clarification, because nobody used his full given name, "Drae." In his native tongue, an archaic dialect rarely spoken above ground, the word<i>Draenai </i>translated quite literally as<i>black</i>, where the short form sounded more like<i>drei</i>, the Hex'ras term for<i>snowfall</i>. Eternally dry in nature, he had thought it rather fitting for his inherently contrary nature. Very few Hex'ras lived outside of their colonies - those who did were instantly banished. Even fewer did regular business with humans, and fewer still practiced necromancy. Indeed, Drae was nothing if not a contrary sort, and he found his name to be similarly - and fittingly - so.<br/><br/>The Spanish-speaking fellow perplexed him in that he was, for all intents and purposes, very much Drae's opposite. Bright in spirit, chatty, and rather keen to make himself useful. On the flip side, the Hex'ras was nothing if not morbid in nature, strikingly quiet, and not at all eager to provide help when he would not immediately benefit. This did well to take the shopkeeper out of his element, which he didn't especially care for. He liked routine. He liked order. He did not like having his world shaken up by a frivolous - if talented - violinist. With any luck, he would simply fix the sign and be on his way.<br/><br/>It seemed, however, that the man was rather intent on speaking with him. Drae nearly overlooked his comment out of sheer frustration, but when he replayed the words a second time, it occurred to him that Amadan, whoever or<i>what</i>ever he was, had insight into his very nature. This gave Drae pause, and it was with no shortage of wariness that he peered over the rim of his book, golden eyes zeroing in on the stranger. Unlike many Hex'ras, Drae did not wear his colors proudly. If anything, he did his utmost to conceal himself from the world. His kind were not readily accepted in society, owing to the reputation they had earned - unjustly so - as devils, evil cretins who preyed upon the organs of children. That someone would see through him so easily unsettled him to his core.<br/><br/>"Mine is not a condition," Drae replied at last, closing the covers of his book. It didn't take much thinking to realize that with Amadan in the room, he was not likely to get any more reading done. "It is my nature. A Hex'ras is what I am. Perhaps you've heard of my kind." Most had, but few would linger long enough to hold a conversation with one. Something told him, however, that if Amadan had been clever enough to discern his arachnid lineage already, he would have already run had it struck him with anything less than curiosity.<br/><br/>That train of thought led him to a question. "How?" he queried, left brow cocked. "How did you<i>see </i>me?"