[She lets him touch her face, her skin. Soft, pale, delicate looking skin against sharp claws and rough scales. The contrast is strange, but she finds that she likes it. Maybe it's the first time he's ever felt a human. And Aramat wants to make a good impression on her species.
Not of them hate him and want to throw their weapons at him. Or will run in fear when he chooses to walk among them.]
no subject
Not of them hate him and want to throw their weapons at him. Or will run in fear when he chooses to walk among them.]