He appears in front of Caligula like a ghost. He should be a ghost, but Drusilla died for him, so he is not. He is very much flesh, but he will not bleed tonight. Caligula snarls as he recognises him. Achilleus has something of a common face; he's lanky and his fur is black, like two thirds of the alley cat population. But there is no way to forget the face you hate. Achilleus knows that himself. He sees Caligula and Tiberius in every dream. They're spectres who haunt him, but tonight, they will truly die.
"Name's Achilleus," he says smoothly, as the small gang freezes. "Ring a bell?" Yes. It does, indeed.