Devin has long since figured out that this man is not normal by any stretch. There's something unpleasantly familiar about him, but he can't quite pin it down. The so-called Foreigners were a rag-tag bunch, all very different.

Out of an abundance of caution, he takes a moment to open his hearing. There's a heartbeat there but-- very slow. Too slow for comfort, too slow for a human. At least, too slow for any human he's ever met.

"If I'm being attacked," he answers, his tone measured. "Or if the target is of my own race. The latter especially earns a death sentence by default," he explains with far too much ease, his mouth thinning with suspicion.