He'll find, as he handles the cold iron daggers, something about them seems particularly... repulsive to him, and his skin starts to itch, just being near the metal.<br/><br/>Leanansidhe was wearing a scandalously thin dress, and flirting openly with a half dozen individuals, when he spoke with her. "Ahh, my dear mortal boy, it is a pleasure to see you again. It would be such a pity if something happened to you, after all."<br/><br/>He has difficulty keeping track of the auras of the different fae; only if he concentrates on an individual, can he get the same reading that the others seem to get instinctively, and there seems to be little rhyme or reason to their mingling. It is, in fact, while he's distracted watchign this proceeding, that an enraged-looking elven man storms up to him, draws off a white glove, and, lightly, slaps Caiaphas in the face with it. "You scoundrel! Seducing my lady love like that! I will see you in a challenge of arms, this very night!" he cries, in a high pitched, effeminate voice.