His ruffled feathers were a bit soothed now that there was only one of them, and the damnable wet had gone from his wonderfully perfect dry air. It wasn't that Alexian hated the wet either, he was simply quite adamant about nothing disturbing the natural, correct flow of things. "Now what is it?" He pulled down the thick black cloth that obscured his face and the hood over his head, revealing the patiently annoyed hunter orange gaze, set in a face that was neither young nor old particularly. A long purple braid spilled out of the hood of his robes, and this time he did sigh. "Every time someone like you shows up, my life goes to hell. It's not your fault, I'm sure. But you can see why this has me just a little... suspicious." The more he spoke, the more he seemed like an old man. Alexian groused again quite suddenly, "And what year is it now anyway? At least I can keep up with how often you people bother me for something."