Paint a picture in my head. Yellow, black, and red.

For a moment after spotting the woman at the water, Eligos hesitated. He was tired, foot- and heart-sore, and feeling particularly jaded after his most recent encounters and had very little desire to be in company. But he had also been traveling the west for some time and was hot and thirsty, and didn't want to find another creek to slake his thirst in. So he quietly moved a polite distance upstream from where the stranger was dabbling her paws, and bent his head to the water. Though the autumn weather was cooler, and the water chilly from it, his dark coat soaked up the heat from the sun easily and his trek here had made him overwarm, so the cold water felt wonderful on a hoarse throat. Having grown used to the appearance of the glow and markings and horns he had not been born with, and having spent little time lately with anyone who hadn't known his appearance, he gave little thought to how it might appear from a stranger's perspective as brighter golden color rippled across his dark coat with his movement and - frankly - he'd have been even more embarrassed and uncomfortable if he'd thought about it.