If Wolfram's expression has been cold of late, his eyes now hold a glacial chill that would strip a man of all heat in seconds. The only thing breaking the icy demeanor was the great arm at his side, the obscenely packed muscles under the crimson skin seemingly twitching in apprehension.<br/><br/>With a heavy sigh he closes his eyes for a moment, opening them slowly and with much less frost in his visage. Without hesitation he takes a step forwards towards the creature; no, the man, that rests bleeding before him. His great arm is extended, palm up and with the three claws spread wide. "Trust...is something we can ill afford in a situation such as this. It would be easy to be betrayed, to be paranoid and simply slay you and take the artifact from your corpse, removing all risk. But... sometimes the implausible is the truth, and sometimes a man must trust his gut.<br/><br/>But that does not mean open arms and warm tea. You will be under guard, and it does seem Brother Al is volunteering to lead your guard. Your wings will be bound until your artifact can be studied, which may take time given recent events. And of course, you will hand over the artifact to me, hear, now, or I will have to disregard my gut and the Guard will transform you into a feathered pincushion." Ahh, if looks could freeze... well the idea is understood here.