He whined, and pitched his head back, and writhed a little bit as if to shimmy his emotions from his body; but there came a commanding tone from nearby, and as Kwe'tau righted himself he came eye-to-eye with a frigid iris and exposed teeth.

Immediately the man melted in to the dirt, splaying on his belly while his legs scissored. Ahh! I mean no offense, sharp-tooth. It was not for the mortal that he held contempt in his heart.

But wait! This was the first true living thing he had seen since the waterworks—!

Kwe'tau angled his long limbs and sat up more properly, scrambling in the effort. He looked wildly to and fro for his collection of baubles and realized he had dropped it a step behind, and hurried to get it, even though that exposed his back to the stranger.

All the while he was cavorting, he claimed: I am a traveling artist! You cannot begrudge me my spasms, sir. I will be quiet—but only if you look upon my work! He didn't... have... any work... which he had forgotten.

Opening his pouch, he let the contents free (and then caught the last thing before it could be shown; whether it was the water-stone he had fetched or something else, remained to be learned). Ah, by that I mean—I take commission?

A grin spread across his face then, and he tucked his pale tail around his feet.