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He wouldn't have to look far. Taima had gotten stuck in the house about an hour ago and, after she had gotten tired of walking through literally the same room over and over again, had settled in the crossbeams of the ceiling where she was determined to wait for the House to get over itself and let her go. In the meantime, determined to make use of the situation, she had created a cloud just big enough to fit inside the middle beams. It rained steadily in that one spot as she fed it sparks of lightning, trying to get it to generate its own bolts and having no luck.

Maybe, if she was really lucky, she would give the House mold. That] would serve it right.

At the sound of the unknown voice, the rain trickled to a drizzle before stopping altogether. The cloud started dissipating almost immediately, the last remnants of it swept away by a flap of Taima's wings to reveal her behind it.

"Oh," Taima said, her eyes lighting up--literally--as she spotted the familiar white coat marking the the figure below her as a Hunter. "It's a human! Aw, hello there, human," she cooed, her tone more fit for gushing over a cute baby animal--which humans were, kind of, to her. "Are you lost?"

"Really?" Taima sat forward, her elbows on her knees, her chin resting in her upturned hands as she looked down at the human. Her feet swung carelessly, casually, as her wings settled more comfortably behind her. He was small from up here, beyond just the difference in elevation--it was too easy to consider him a specimen pinned beneath her curiosity. Humans were endlessly fascinating to her, the so-called Hunters even more so.

"Did you mean to come here, then? Why would any human want to come here? This is no place for you." Less of an accusation than a warning--this was no place for her, either. This was no place for anyone of sound mind.

The glitter of the chains the human was holding caught her eye, and she forcibly smothered the smirk that threatened to curl her lips. Honestly, these humans were so adorable with their little toys and their perceived superiority. Really.

"All worthwhile pursuits," Taima agreed amicably. "Tell me, what have you learned so far?"

Taima nodded encouragingly as the human offered his first observation, and then waited for him to dazzle her with other, less obvious insights.

And waited.

When it became clear that no further nuggets of wisdom would be forthcoming, she gave him the patient smile of a parent whose scareling had just informed them that the sky was grey. "Well, I'm sure if you keep looking, you'll find something new. This is your first time here, right?" Taima asked hopefully; she knew that humans were little better than cattle, and she had even met a few herself, but none of them had ever seemed quite so...dumb.

Taima met the little human's gaze, completely unruffled by his intense regard. She could practically see the wheels turning in what she was sure was an empty little mind, but she could certainly respect the effort. She met his smile with an airy, unconcerned grin of her own, her feet still swinging nonchalantly.

"It is always your first time here, technically," Taima remarked. "The House is always a house, but none of the rooms ever seem to be the same. It might have something to do with its state of existence," she started, and then she remembered who--and what--she was speaking to. It was hard to find a way to dumb it down for the Hunter's sake. Finally, she settled on, "It's not a bad house. It's certainly worth exploring, but there's no telling where you'll end up, or who you'll run into."

Sarcasm, Taima was pleased to note, seemed to be the same for humans as it was for Halloween. She wondered, briefly, why that was--if it was something that was so inherently human that it pervaded even the Fear that made creeple on her side of the fence, imbuing them with the ability to make the most innocent of phrases seem rude and condescending--and then decided that it didn't really matter much.

This human kept falling down the well of interest Taima had in him; it wouldn't take much for him to hit the hard, dry bottom. This human was far less interesting than the others she had com across. It was disappointing, but she supposed that he was only human, after all, and her expectations, therefore, should be middling at best.

"You do realize," she replied with the calm patience of someone who knew they had the upper hand and wanted to drag it out as long as possible, just to make sure that the other party knew it, too, "that I can't possibly take offense at something if I have no idea what you're talking about, right? And if I am at all full of myself, it's because I've been here before and know how this works, and you haven't, and don't. You could be a little more grateful that I'm helping you at all--and that I didn't eat you on sight, the way some of my classmates would."