A precarious illusion, one way or another. There's a reason beyond thorns that his feet are bound as they are, he'd simply not gotten back to putting his boots on; not everything can be easily cut off or shaved away. Not everything. But enough.

"Does it?" For all that the circumstances are less than desirable, panic hasn't ever really set in. This was happening to everyone as far as he could tell, he just.. didn't tolerate it on himself. It's easy to remove scales, or feathers. If that's all it ever was he'd be fine.

Except he can run his tongue over teeth no longer designed for an omnivore's diet, and those wouldn't be so easily removed. "Your concern is kind but misplaced. These will heal in time." Slower than they should be by far. He shouldn't still be bleeding. That was too normal, waiting for clots to form the way they do on ordinary people. "Should combat be necessary, I will be unhindered. You and the others will remain safe."