The transformation is more than startling: it spooks Carlisle so badly that he jumps in his chair, nearly sending the pail at his feet toppling over. He seems to judge saving his cottage floor as important as saving himself, and so he leans forward and catches it, his eyes never leaving the strange being before him. It's not the ears nor the hair that have his full attention, but those teeth so sharp and frightening.

"Oh. Oh, ah. Th- that is, um. That is s-s-something, isn't it?"

That nervous sort of smile pulls at the corner of his mouth again, clearly a reaction more than a truthful expression. With the bucket steady -- as steady as it can be in his shaking hands -- he leans back into his chair once more, as far as it will let him... and then further still as he scoots the entire seat back an inch or two. The last time he came face to face with a demon didn't end well at all.

"H- how is it m- more complicated? If that- if that isn't rude to ask?"

Please don't be rude to ask.