Yeah, I thought that was the case. 
Sorry this is so short.
There was something so desperately familiar about the stranger. He was dark coated and had red eyes, but they were not the same as Talitha’s eyes. It was so strange to him that the color of things could be alike and yet they could contain different things. Souls, perhaps. Someone had told him that once. It might have been a book, for he had read so many and the facts and fiction all blurred into one. Philosophy and religion were cousins, alike and forever at odds—Ezekiel had filled his head with words as much as he had filled his soul with the savage places of the world.
So that part of him understood what the ghost-stranger meant, and that part of him smiled a smile that did not meet his eyes. There was too much forest in him to become a scholar. “I should know you,” the young man said, though he did not rise to meet him. The smell of mint overpowered all other things; trying to break through that would do little. “You look familiar. You look like a Lykoi.” Samael had red eyes. Maybe that was who this man resembled.
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