Tybalt snorts as he tosses the linen over the wax model of Derek and starts sketching out the spell with his ink and stylus. "Trigger happy's a word for it," he mutters. "Why is he even here? He's not a godling or a magician. What purpose can he possible serve except for maybe bait?"

Not that Tybalt would suggest that in earnest but. Well, he doesn't really like mortals in general.