There were always people coming and going. At one time Astaroth would have stopped and watched each and every one of them. He has hobbies, of sorts, now that occupied his time. He's striding across the plaza, blue skin with the shifting black oilslick wings, and he's tall. Two foot taller than most, almost four foot taller if one looks at the tops joint of his wings rather than his body height.

The question catches his attention and he answers as he stops without missing a beat. Deep twilight colored eyes turning downward. "Shooting stars. It answers both questions."