"Now you just sound like the thugs you beat up in back alleys. You don't even know who is responsible, so you wander about aimlessly hoping for a clue to drop in your lap," he remarked from where he remained crouched on the branch.

He examined Jack's new appearance, all the signs that he was irretrievably changed by whatever story that he had taken on. The hooves were a nice touch he decided, brought out how pig-headed Jack actually was for all to see.

His own appearance changes were more subtle, and that's the way he preferred it. His jacket was inscribed with feathers, looking a little like folded wings. His mask remain safely in place, but their were lines of detailed inscriptions along all the angles, things he couldn't see.

"What does it matter what I am? Didn't you come rushing in to kill me as you always do?"