Alloran's not entirely immune from old prey ancestor instincts, which see the teeth and claws in close proximity and smell alien blood and want him to do something about the whole situation. But he's spent so many years in close proximity to alien predators and unable to do anything about it, it's really just a needling background impression that he should do... something. Put his ears back, maybe, but as he does it it doesn't really seem sufficient.

<I see,> he says, though he obviously doesn't understand the connection between the decorations and the unfortunate custodian, who has literally started crossing herself with a shaking hand as she shrinks back against the wall. The bagged cherub tries to take a bite out of her leg. Its teeth tangle in the mesh.

Alloran can't sigh, he's not built like that, but there is that sort of impression as he delicately inserts his body between the staffer who'd wanted his help with cherub-catching and the werewolf. <If you're moving on, I'll come with you.>