[A hidden sense of humor, indeed. He would appreciate it more, perhaps, if not distracted by the comment following.]
A mercenary?
[Dimitri blinks at him, his expression flickering with uncertainty, the line of his brow slanting. He cannot say that he thinks very highly of the profession, for those motivated solely by what brings in the most coin are often less concerned about moral restriction. He has known mercenaries to carry out dishonorable work, uncaring if the pay swells the lining of their pockets, and brag about their conquests as though it was something to be proud about.
But he also cannot neglect those of the opposite disposition — those who are vigorous on the battlefield and adhere to decency, all the same. He thinks of Jeralt, a once-knight of Seiros both renowned and respected. He thinks of his Professor, someone whose advice he treats as remarkably affecting, their prowess in battle defined by a terrifying grace, sword wielded by a hand that might cleave the heavens in two as much as it would kindly guide them. Both mercenaries once; both good people.
Maybe, then, it would simply be more prudent to give Oz the benefit of the doubt. The strange magnetism he experiences in his vicinity practically requires it.]
I see. That must be strenuous work.
[He says, as though he is not already aware of what the lifestyle is usually like — on Fódlan, at least.]
Why do you say they only keep you around for your appearance?
no subject
A mercenary?
[Dimitri blinks at him, his expression flickering with uncertainty, the line of his brow slanting. He cannot say that he thinks very highly of the profession, for those motivated solely by what brings in the most coin are often less concerned about moral restriction. He has known mercenaries to carry out dishonorable work, uncaring if the pay swells the lining of their pockets, and brag about their conquests as though it was something to be proud about.
But he also cannot neglect those of the opposite disposition — those who are vigorous on the battlefield and adhere to decency, all the same. He thinks of Jeralt, a once-knight of Seiros both renowned and respected. He thinks of his Professor, someone whose advice he treats as remarkably affecting, their prowess in battle defined by a terrifying grace, sword wielded by a hand that might cleave the heavens in two as much as it would kindly guide them. Both mercenaries once; both good people.
Maybe, then, it would simply be more prudent to give Oz the benefit of the doubt. The strange magnetism he experiences in his vicinity practically requires it.]
I see. That must be strenuous work.
[He says, as though he is not already aware of what the lifestyle is usually like — on Fódlan, at least.]
Why do you say they only keep you around for your appearance?