Lou was never quite gentle, and for a moment he wondered why Ziggy would even bother to figure out if he was mad or not — he was always mean. Lou was an impressive figure, his dark eyes that curved down around the edges, his sparkling mean teeth he used to cut the spirit out of people, his leather coat cradling his body — but the impressive man didn't match the impressive creature. Ziggy was something, actual fangs, actual animal body whose hips swished and haunches rose like that of some obscene creature, forgotten in some atavistic time. Lou looked up, for too long, just to prove something, jaw tightening, "what do you think you're doing?" His voice booms and he sits up in his chair, in which he had been sitting and watching Ziggy from across the room. The party was big and Ziggy's smile shone red like his hair, bobbing and laughing, legs spreading and fingers pawing over jackets. Lou brooded in his jealous, feigning amusement before he just couldn't. "That's enough, we're leaving."