"Sorry about that, Callie.  If he hadn't come in with the proverbial flag of truce, we'd have woken you up."  Drake does sound a bit sheepish; even to him, that excuse came out flimsy.<br/><br/>He goes on in his usual lightheartedly flippant manner.  "And I'm not sure if it's too late or far too soon to say this, but well met, Emrys of Razorclaw.  I don't know any more about shifters than sleeping beauty does, but I make a point of not judging people on race.  Especially after some of the reactions I've gotten to this."  He holds out his hand, and in the space of a heartbeat, it goes from a normal human limb to being covered in bright silver scales, each finger tipped with a deadly claw.  It remains draconic just long enough for everyone to wonder if what they saw was a trick of the light, then returns to normal as he extends it to the newcomer.<br/><br/>"Drake D'argent.  Glad to have you with us."