That was Draconic. Aro's eyebrows shoot up, and he turns to the dragon just as she looks at him. Now he's on his feet, just in time for for another of their number to admit to looking very different at home. He draws the same conclusion as the man who'd spoken to him and smiles, unable to hide his relief.

"As do I," he says, and returns the Draconic greeting to the other. He looks between them both. "You're from Toril, aren't you? Both of you."

Now he focuses on Chance, a line forming between his brows.

"But I don't know what's happened to you. I always look like this, I've not noticed a difference. It must be magic, all of it must. What else could change you without your knowing?"