Surviving for over a thousand years meant that he had become rather adept at reading body language. It became clear to him that his visitor was not trying to threaten him, though he had no doubt that she could be extremely dangerous if given reason to be and he was not stupid enough to poke at a cobra with a stick. He loosened up taut muscles, though he didn't let his guard down entirely. His expression was that of keen interest, his brown eyes fixed on hers.
"Lung cancer?" he asked, brows raising skyward. "The toxic disease?" The new things that humans were dying of were unlike anything he had encountered in the old days. So were the processed foods humans stuffed themselves with. It was disgusting. He wrinkled his nose just thinking about it.
The offer of a favor was far better than he had hoped for. Ivarr had never been materialistic, having spent the vast majority of his centuries as a horse. The only things of value to him was his bridle and his herd, currently the domestic horses of the circus. "Khepri," he repeated, trying it out. "I am Chosamhlachd. Paradox in English. People around here call me Ivarr." His Gaelic name was preferred, but he had long since given up trying to get people to use it. "I will accept a favor. May I save it or must I claim it now?"