Khavur was still fired up. You'd think delving a little into massive monster puppy mode would ease the nerves somewhat, but honestly it had only excited them further. Maximus had been right, absolutely... going berserk in Draco had been frightening, traumatized, guilt-inducing... but out here, it wasn't really going berserk as much as it was just fun. No idea what Master Vargas would do if he knew about that confusing slurry of emotions.

To be honest, Kethri's funeral hadn't jarred Khavur as much as the reason behind it, and the glee with which the Hand had done it. In the same way, the death of Scout had been less about the act of violence and more about the emotions surrounding it for Khavur. Perhaps that was because it understood violence in some capacity... but Khavur had not initially understood the happiness it had brought both of the Hands when they had enacted it. That breed of elation felt alien and all too familiar, all at once. This, and Maximus's endangerment of their plan, was why Khavur had wanted to escape the lamb for a while.

But back to Master Vargas, because it's a funny set-up for some irony: what would he think if he knew right now that this was what Khavur was doing? Did this count as "processing"? Based on where Khavur's appendages were taking it, this just seemed to be complicating the emotions almost deliberately. Because now it was in the place where the lamb and the lion had danced together.

Khavur made its way inside and idly paced around the center of the colosseum, remembering the dance. The song. The Maximus. The plan, the reason behind it, everything leading up to it-- dear gosh this was too much. Shoot. Shoot.

And now Master Vargas was here!

SHOOT.

As soon as the voice (terrifyingly familiar?) came thundering towards it, both the Reaver's sets of eyes snapped to the source. Khavur straightened from a slouching mound to a stalwart tree so fast it could be considered slapstick comedy. Immediately, panicked thoughts ran their course: 'Has he been following? Watching?! Is there a reason he wanted to see me here of all places, where was he, how did I not see him--?' And while it tried to curb the worst of the shock so it did not look as though it was completely off guard, there was still sensible commotion going on within its demeanor.

Then the Master asked for its name. 'Is this a test?' "Kh-avur, R-" Ahem. "Reaver of the Dark Above." But as he... came closer... wait a minute- "You... are not Master Vargas?" It They narrowed their eyes, as if that would help with seeing the details. Oh, she was Vargas alright... if you squinted. Khavur unsquinted, if that's something you can do, and proceeded to play a little game of Spot The Difference.

You know, there actually quite a few differences once she got up close. Embarrassing. Khavur released its position, relaxed to a somewhat normal degree. Just because he didn't know her didn't mean he could be all buddy-buddy with her. In fact, he shrank away a little before mimicking her sizing up act. Lots of questions bubbled up to the surface, but Khavur felt no inclination to interrogate immediately. First it had to know... if she was not Master Vargas, then who was she?

As soon as mysterious Vargas stranger started talking, it became very evident that she was, in fact, very distant from Master Vargas -- in terms of demeanor, anyway. Well, she was making humorous cracks at Khavur, but for whatever reason they seemed... easier to understand? Easier to uncomfortably chuckle at with one head (small-horned) while the other (large-horned) remained perfectly grim and proper. The confusion had yet to fade.

She seemed to make a lot more jokes than Master Vargas, actually. She seemed more loose and almost untidy, whereas Master Vargas (like the rest of them) was coiled tight like a spring. This... Vakornol, whose title would've made Khavur turn beat red from embarrassment at its own, if it had been built for such emotional expression. She could tell what- whose he was... what did that say about him? What did that say about Master Vargas? Khavur simply gave a trademark soldierly nod in pseudo-response to the pseudo-question.

Probably that he was bad at titles.

And this... "came before him" business, that struck Khavur as odd. Like a proto-him? Masters made proto-Valkhounds? Interesting. It made Khavur wonder what it was a proto- for.

The question was met with some hesitation on account of calculating the answer that Khavur would want to have the potential to be relayed back to Master Vargas. This was probably (definitely) overthinking it. "I was given a week of vacation..." So, pleasure? "although I do intend to use it to train." Train the mind, train the body, train for guardianship, and the Deathmatch... lots of things needed training, and to train for. Khavur might have inherited Vargas's workaholism somehow. "What... of you?" Would that make sense, that question? Oh man... Khavur was bad at this...