"Tch. So by your admission, humans are not trustworthy, but my secret is safe with you? Give me a break, you must know how that sounds."

He finds a seat on the human's sofa, giving him the coldest of side-eyes.

"I don't even know your name and I already know you're sorely lacking in self-preservation," he adds caustically, his tail tip flicking about in irritation. "My kind would just as soon bite your head off for even seeing a single scale. Because if we don't, your sort would skewer us and hang our carcasses up as some kind of trophy."

He sounds more aggressive than he probably should, but actually, he doesn't care. He's sore and in a place that feels like some kind of enclosure that he didn't elect to be in. This body itself is an enclosure, preventing him from showing his scales as he should!