Nova Peak End Game

That, Masquerade replied dryly in their deep timbre, sounds like something someone who was following me would say.

They arched their brow slightly, though they began to relax. He was hurt, if his limping gait was anything to go by. And there was something almost bashful about him, though Masque refused to be entirely disarmed.

Still stiff-legged, they took a couple of tentative steps toward him. They kept their posture as neutral as possible: head up, tail down. Their ears remained upright, their expression stoic but their eyes inquisitive.

Who are you? was their next question, followed by, And what are you doing here, then?