Scales, certainly, brilliant red-edged gold which is beginning to darken to black as the stranger approaches. Faris lets out a warning rumble, deep in his throat, and uses his whiplike tail to slap at reaching hands, a more harmless rebuke than he's capable of giving. At the same time, the K'da springs off the cushion with a warrior's speed, putting the chaise lounge between them, razor-sharp claws now extended on all four paws.

Touch is so important to his kind, but uninvited touch is another matter, especially when he's being prodded like a scientific specimen. "What are you doing?" he demands.