Plasmatoris gives the butterfly a bright smile, though he isn't sure the creature - his familiar? - can understand. Still, even the small compliment is a delight.
Then he moves finds himself staring at a swarm of faeries milling about his supposed laboratory. Ugh.. terrifying. He shakes his head. He is in a new situation, and apparently his Master's abject dislike of faeries was overcome during the last fourscore years. He pushes his hair back from his face, finally scrounging up a paint-spattered tie to hold his hair back from his face, and begins looking around the spacious lab for any notes that would include information on the missing years.