When he's done with his song (he holds the final shiiiinyyyyy for an unnecessary length of time, but there's not much about Tamatoa's image that's necessary), his eyes fall on the frozen young woman.

And he grins, a smile that says he's none too kind.

He heads over to her (it's a short journey for a crab of his size -- even though he feels like he was taller fifty feet is too tall for this job, apparently, so the heavens shrunk him to a more manageable six feet, but he doesn't know that) and chuckles, one eyebrow (or eyebrow equivalent) arched.

"Well, well, well. Aren't you the drab little girl? Trying to live the song? You should start with a crown, honey. Sparkling jewels. Real gold."