His mood is high. Perhaps on par with the moment he learned he was going to be Highblood, was the Highblood in the future. It's not often he feels so, but now, rocking on heels in wait for the elevator open up to the second floor, to his moirail, he does.

At least, he did until the door opened. It opens to neither his moirail nor the floor he wants, but to another troll. He freezes at the sight of her.

"Who the motherfuck are you all to be?" He blurts, but considering the pattern of things, and the cat-ear-like horns on her head, he's already got a guess. He's got no weapon, the capitol allows it nowhere but the arena and the training center, but he's got horns, claws, and teeth. His body is tense to spring. Just in motherfucking case. It's not as if the peacekeepers could really stop him if they fought.