[color=goldenrod][i][h2][center]Gerard Segremors[/center][/h2][/i][/color]

[@Psyker Landshark]

His eyes flicked upwards, meeting those of the man across the table, and a smirk played across his face. "Nah, I know what he's up to. I'm worrying he'll start charging me a premium once it's his cider I'm drinking."

More a joke than a fib. While any idiot could tell something was on Gerard's mind, he knew well that trying to willfully conceal the matter behind a veil of falsehood wouldn't have a chance of getting past Sir Renar, too shrewd by half for anything his common sense could come up with. If anything, it served to signal that he'd been brought back to the present for the talk, now that the lull between them had broken.

Another draft, this one longer, and he continued in earnest.

[color=goldenrod]"Believe me, I'd have loved to have you around for it— even [i]I[/i] have enough pride that getting tossed around like a sack of rocks gets under my skin, looking back."[/color]

Once was a punished mistake.

Twice was unorthodox tactics.

Speaking frankly, for all the honor it was to be entrusted by the spirit of such a legendary figure to finish the job?

Three was fucking ridiculous.

[color=goldenrod]"I can't let that happen again. If I'm just outmatched, it is what it is. You know as well as anyone that I can handle being beat— But if we keep running into enemies like him or Jeremiah? I'm not always gonna have somebody around to stab them in the armpit when they're about to rip me in half, punch a hole through my armor and me inside. Not looking for the third time to be the charm on that."[/color]