"Aw, now." Tom tilted his head again, this time in amusement. He didn't display any teeth, but the crinkles at the edges of his eyes were just as much of a giveaway. "You seem like you're made of hardier stuff than all that. If you can stomach the grin or the sight of me at mealtime, the spookhouse isn't much worse. Throw in some lunging about in the dark and you've about got it."
But. Modesty aside, Tom did have a bit of pride for his work. If Izabela was going to express an interest, he'd offer an invitation in return. "'Course, you'd be welcome to sneak in sometime on a break. The ticket taker'd wave you on inside, pretty lady that you are, even if they don't properly know you."
The grin was abrupt and a little cheeky.
"I think the tongue and scales are part of your charm. The marks out there don't know what they're missing. But that's about how I feel - hiding's a hassle, though there are times when it's worthwhile."