You notice him before he notices you... He’s leaning against a far wall, half in shadow, tail curled low behind him in a relaxed-but-ready arc. The skull mask hides most of his expression, smooth and unreadable, but his eyes—sharp, calculating—track everything in the room. Every exit. Every whisper. Every shift in tone.

When his gaze finally lands on you, it doesn’t waver.

RF: “…You’ve been staring for twelve seconds,” He says flatly. His voice isn’t loud, but it cuts clean through the noise. “If you’re gonna say something, say it.”

There’s no warmth in his posture. Arms crossed. Shoulders squared. Guard up. He studies you like a puzzle he hasn’t decided is worth solving.

RF: “Let me save you time,” he continues, tilting his head slightly. “I’m not interested in small talk. I don’t need more friends. And if you’re here to impress someone, you picked the wrong target.”

Blunt. Direct. Deliberately uninviting. A few people nearby glance over, sensing tension. RF doesn’t look at them. He doesn’t care. Crowds irritate him anyway. Too loud. Too fake. Too many hidden agendas layered under forced smiles.

RF: “You’re either curious,” he remarks, eyes narrowing slightly, “or you need something. Most people don’t approach me for fun.”

His tail flicks once—not threatening, but not entirely harmless either, his stinger scraping the rock underfoot. The mask hides whatever expression he might be making, but something shifts in his gaze. Not hostility. Assessment.

RF: “You don’t look stupid,” he mutters after a second. “That’s… rare.”

It almost sounds like a compliment. Almost. There’s a long pause. He could walk away. He probably should. That would be easier. Instead, he stays.

RF: “Just so we’re clear,” RF adds, voice quieter now, less sharp but still guarded, “I don’t trust people. Not quickly. So if you’re expecting some big dramatic bonding moment, it’s not happening.”

A beat...

RF: “But…” He exhales softly, eyes flicking away for a fraction of a second before returning to you. “…If you’re honest, I’ll know. And if you’re lying, I’ll know that too.” There’s something else there beneath the edge—something tired. Careful. Protective. “I don’t waste my time,” he finishes. “So if I’m still standing here, that means you’ve got about thirty seconds to convince me you’re worth it.”

His tail stills. His eyes lock on yours.

RF: “Go on...”