Watching his own ass walking away from him and swaying like a woman's gets him to laugh and he covers his mouth with his hand to quickly quiet himself. "I can't tell if I'm laughin' at your expense or mine," he says as he watches her inspect her glamoured form.

Still, when she's ready to give it up he doesn't make her wait. He takes the locket from her, his hands lingering near hers just a few seconds too long as he considers her true face once more. It wouldn't do to stall forever, though, and eventually he has to wear the locket himself.

The strange part is how nothing feels different. He takes a few experimental breaths and fails to feel the satisfaction of it. He pinches the skin on his forearm and shakes his head when the sensation is the same old dullness. Like Isidor had he goes to the mirror to inspect himself, but what catches his attention most are his eyes. He peels back his eyelids and watches his brown irises flick from sight to sight.

"It's weird," he says, leaning back. "But at least it ain't like all those magical swaps Doctor Hill puts us through. No offense to y'all, but my breather days are over and I ain't interested in one more magic surprise that turns me into one for real."

Then he glances toward the nearest window. He remembers Viatorus' apartment having a balcony, and the urge to go out on it is incredibly strong. "What I am interested in is seein' Earth! Now that I'm a regular-old breather man, of course. Your foreign friend from the strange and far-off world of Texas. And since I don't think Earth folks name their kids Harrowheart, y'all can call me..."

He scans the room, from Viatorus to Runa and finally... Isidor. That spark of quiet contentment that usually brightens his eyes when he sees her is gone, and in its place only a pointedly blank stare.

"Harry," he says flatly.