[Caliborn's recoil is no mere backwards scoot across the floor.]
[It is his upper half arcing in revulsion, and his arms curling up defensively, though there is no deflecting that word or the horrible truth. His bottom eyelids coming up as his mouth twists into a sneer. Bare reptilian feet dig into the floor, until the muscles in his legs coil and tense with enough spare energy to send him backward and away from the interloper.]
[The by-then tentative illusion of bros, and of Dirk not having inferior human emotions, has been shattered. Caliborn has never felt more disgusted or horrified in his life.]