"What is this?" Santana asks as he holds up a 'human object' as he has named them. His crimson eyes examine it, head tilted.

He then looks to you. The vermillion hair that frames his face looked wavier today, his bangs gliding between his nose and eyes. His head tilts in curiosity. The tribal tattoo under his eye stands out against his olive tinted skin.

"Human?" He repeats the question, two tiny horns in his hair peeking out just behind his bangs. They remind you he isn't human.