The pup yaps and tugs the man forward at the end of the leash, and he follows, uncertainty in his gaze, though as he steps closer, his pace seems more certain, and stronger. Accepting the glass. "Ah, thanks, Miss, I do have an awful thirst." He drinks, and grows taller, sterner, and bluer, horned and true troll, with a hammer hanging by his side. The man closes his eyes, exhaling, and then opens them, gleaming steel grey-blue. "Thank you. I am... foolish, to have come so far, and waited so long. My apologies, for interrupting your festivities, on Midsummer of all nights."