Rahu: "Ah, you’ve got quite the discerning eye… or perhaps just an expensive taste for trash?~ Shall I wrap it, or will you wear your mistake home?~" (soft chuckle, spins his pipe)

Rahu casually lifts his ornate smoking pipe to his lips, exhaling a thin stream of smoke as he leans his weight onto the counter with an easy, amused grin. His fingers idly twirl the small demonic mask by its strap, letting it dangle just enough to suggest that if the mood sours—or if he grows bored—he might just slip it on and let things get a little… destructive.