[ The caustic scent of purification tickles his sinuses; the daemon's nose wrinkles as he almost sneezes, handsome face scrunching in displeasure before schooling back into an easy smile. Ugh, the worst ... this is the last kind of person he wants to meet when he's without a weapon and finding his usually oversharp senses lacking.

His stare is unwavering. Sizing up the other, he finally decides that this isn't someone with the Abbey. Were this someone who might know that man, Rokurou would have already leapt down to try and drag some information out of him.

Then he scans over the ofuda lazily, feigning disinterest, but his attention lingers too long before returning to meet the stranger's catslit pupil. The man having wandered into his side of the graveyard is just as strange as the city itself, pushing the daemon away with the disgusting blanch of cleansing but drawing him back in again with that wrongness that just hits right for a creature like him. A wax and wane that whets his appetite. ]

Typical. Do we all just want to eat people all the time? [ he rolls his eye, unimpressed. ] Even if you don't look too bad.

[ He shows his teeth in mock-aggression, petty enough to give them a little snap before nodding his chin toward the tombstone in a pointing gesture. ]

I don't feel them, but why would I?