The fourth nickname had been one too many. "[i]Touchy.[/i]" Ghent tsked, then sighed dramatically as if he'd been wronged. "That was a [b]compliment! [/b]Here on Earth, Merida is a popular archer. You should be thanking me."
	The description of the other survivors was somewhat vague, yet unsettling all the same. He fell serious, taking this information of this into consideration for the days ahead.
	"Should have expected as much. That's rough..." Ghent wondered how many family members -- if any -- he had in that situation. His mother could have been one of the ones forced underground. As it was, he wondered if she would have been better off dead along with Elayra's mother. Uncomfortable with the thought of it, he hastily pushed the idea aside. 
	After a moment's silence, Ghent lifted his head. "With odds like those, I take it that [i]Elayra[/i]," he pronounced the name with the same enunciation as she had. "Doesn't have herself a prince back home, then." With that, he tossed his empty cup into the bag and cast her a smug, teasing smirk. "Looks like I've got a good chance at winning your heart, then, huh?" Ghent couldn't seem to help himself; he hadn't any siblings of his own to tease, and Elayra's stoic, yet temperamental mannerisms made her the ideal target.