(begin like you're telling a story, then get sort of frustrated) The dark prince sat astride his black steed, his sable cape flowing behind him. A golden circlet bound his blond locks, his handsome face was cold with the rage of battle, and...and his arm looked like an eggplant.

(jokingly) Is this when you start tearing strips off your t-shirt to bind up my wound?

(defensive, but level and calm) No, I'm not. I'm Nephilim-just like you.