"Nine hells...are you all right??" There's a mix of bemusement and genuine concern in Zevlor's voice, and he hastens to the stranger's side, crouching slightly. Rather than touch him uninvited, he offers a polite hand up.

Golden blood? That's not a Sylph trait he's aware of. Clearly this is another Visitor. "What on earth were you trying to do?"

Perhaps the sight of a tiefling will make him feel a little more at home. Zevlor certainly looks closer to a demon than Lucifer does, although he wouldn't exactly be pleased to hear it.