Dragon is about ten seconds from getting into a fight (read: murdering) a native from Exsilium who took particular issue with him when he catches the cloying smell of despair under a heavy wave of--something. It's being squashed, he can tell. Slowly, he turns, following the trail, and transforms one arm to knock the persistent angry native into the nearest wall.

He flicks his arm, returning it to its previous human shape, and puts his hands in his pockets, peering at the girl in purple--who is clearly a Transport, from her dress to her tablet. "Hello," he says, and walks toward her. There's no urgency to it, but his magic is tingling under his skin, ready to lash out.