What a vicious punk --
I'm pretty sure he lies about his age.
What's with the bow and ponytail?
Desert skin curtained by auburn,
socketed with emerald eyes.
Who does he think he's fooling?
What a deplorable. . .
I'm pretty sure his skill with a sword
is comparable to beginners.
Pillow lips protect a silver tongue.
While we work, he's in the taverns,
playing at conversation.
What a queer young man --
Even back on Jalima he ruffled
feathers on the goodly wings.
I wouldn't trust a man who would
speak, over choosing violence.
Who does he think he's fooling?
Meanwhile, in Eastham. . .