The troll's voice rumbled stones against Hap's small knees which were propped under Wilhelm's shoulders to keep the great guest from choking on the glutinous gravy. Hap's nostrils flared and it's small stomach gave a companionable growl of interest even as the troll opened his mouth once more. He was like Krell's pups, as fearsome as a gnat and with promise of great violence if not tended well. 

Wilhelm, Hap reminded itself, was capable of so much more, however and Hap worked to forget those harms which the more intelligent of species could inflict with simple words, promises, and lies. Hap's small world seemed far removed at times, considering the distances required to reach the nearest familiar face, however it was not insurmountable and Wilhelm was not the first to make it so far west. 

“Wolves are honest,” Hap snapped. “My dogs are honest. If honesty is a comfort, then maybe you'll manage well here.” Hap, however, was not so honest, though for despite the unsettled nature of its thoughts, the sharp tone of its voice, its hands were gentle as it fed Wilhelm and its tail had begun to writhe against its thigh as the long appendage sought to free itself and explore. 

Unwilling to engage in conversation when thoughts were so tiring and it was so unaccustomed to either the thoughts or the conversation, Hap sniffed and continued feeding Wilhelm, but did not manage the social niceties one might expect of a host. Instead, Hap's gaze flitted over Wilhelm's form a time or two, settled most often on Wilhelm's legs, and its nostrils flared each time, testing for the smell of rot through the heavier scent of gravy. The bowl was slightly larger than the ones previous and after a third of the food was gone, Hap paused and looked down at the color of the troll's skin. 

“You'll keep it down?” it asked warily. Thin broth made for a much easier mess to clean than gravy and rices.