The lizard held his gaze for another second. Two. Then, as if it had confirmed whatever it needed to confirm, it turned.
The movement was smooth - a small pivot on his chin, front legs adjusting, the tail uncurling and sweeping behind it as it reoriented. It stepped off his jaw and back onto his chest, moving with the same careful, slow pace as before. Front left. Front right. Each tiny foot placed precisely, each step purposeful.
It was heading toward his chest pocket.
The right one - the one closest to it. The lizard reached the pocket's edge and paused, front legs gripping the fabric's lip, head tilting down to inspect the opening. Then it climbed in.
And froze.
The tiny body went rigid. Completely still - no breathing, no movement, not even the subtle rise and fall of its small spikes that Raizen had noticed before. It stood inside the pocket like something carved from stone, and for a moment Raizen thought something was wrong.
Then he remembered what was in that pocket.
