Go ahead.
His voice is deep, as he gestures with his massive hand to the chairs around the table. His feet are on the table, as he seems to be sharpening his claws with a knife he pulled form his pack. He accepts the water when it comes, drinking it quickly, putting the glass down, before contiuning to sharpen. When Khylorn has sit, he says, nonchalant, and looking at his nails.
Nice to meet you Khylorn. My name is Drazar. Please though, call me Draz. Not DrAz with a short A, but Drahz, with a long A. What may I do for you? And if this is about one of my father's kind eating one of your relatives, I'm sorry, but I can't help you there. My dad died a long time ago.