Anzu is gentle, and patient. No punishment follows, nor the threat of it. No drooling double maw turns in Dimitri's direction.

Dimitri blinks, once, hard, and shakes himself. The potluck slips into place around him. He shakes his head again.

"F-forgive the odd question," he says -- his voice fades in and out of his own accent and that strange interloper -- "but would you tell me where I am?" Softer, as though he's afraid of the answer: "What color are my eyes?"