He blinks- seemingly ataken back. "You- pardon me, but I seem to remember /an awful lot/ of past events involving you. Like that time at ba- Ahh.. Anyway. What do you mean, when did I learn your name? I'd say... about.. forty years ago, in Obsidian? I call you freind because that was one of the most enjoyable experiences of my life to date? Uh... Your leaving me feeling a bit lost here, Scar." He says with a blink and frown. His handsome features shifting in to a sad frown.<br/><br/><br/>And then he shrugs, pushing it away, still in a good mood on the whole. "Now, assuming you just didn't recognize me due to me using a different face, I'll use the name I did back then- It's me. The Hellhound. Also known as "That fucker who won't die", by some of the men we fought back then. Ringing /any/ bells..?"  He continues on- now fully distracted from the battle at hand.<br/><br/>He's a bit disappointed- and worried he mistook this woman for someone else- but.. no. He can't be mistaking her aura, her powers.... that cold, calculating gaze... those pretty lips, those swaying hips.... No, this is /definitely/ the woman he knows. Knew? Who knows. Fucking hell- go up, get happy about a familiar face, and get your shit chewed. What a wonderfull world, eh?