"Drow?" He blinked several times, the name apparently having no meaning to him. She had pointy ears; several party members did, and he recognized elf. He knew a bit about the surface races; the books at the monastery he laired in had some books on physiology and races, but only the most common of the surface dwelling ones. Drow, needless to say, would not have been in any of them. He did not quite understand if her skin coloration marked her as something special. At least with his own race, he knew from his parents--firsthand and from their stories--that they had a wide variety of shapes and sizes, and that certain ones were called certain things.<br/><br/>Really, he had so little grasp on the outside world; and now that he has been so callously shoved out into it, he saw a need to try and understand what was out here. He doubted he would be able to return to his simple life in the abandoned monastery.<br/><br/>"I'm a Tiefling. Apparently from a Pit Fiend," he answered. She'd be able to see the small horns jutting out from above his eyebrows; they're maybe an inch long, and curl backwards. What she does not see, thanks to the robe--although maybe she saw it when he was naked with the druid--is the thin, short, whip-like tail he had.  Just a stubby little thing. Although he looked Caucasian, there was a certain ruddy quality to his skin all over; kind of like a 'drunk blush', but all over, not just his face, and he definitely wasn't drunk right now. All in all, he must be very distant from that Pit Fiend ancestor. Probably a good thing, for all of them.<br/><br/>"Would you tell me about yourself? I will tell you about me, too." His phrasing might be awkward, but he seemed eager to gain understanding of the others; and maybe he sensed that she, too, was seeking the same.