Are
"Seems like an eternity." he concurred, voice not much more than a murmur. Careful to not disrupt whatever fragile flow of conversation had been established, chewing the inside of his cheek to not let an eager tongue slip and ruin it.
An eternity it had seemed indeed, time slowing down to a crawl for a man used to never being out of work or talk. Restless would have been an understatement, absolutely teeming with a need to do something, but somehow patient enough to not interject as Nate made his way through his thoughts. He perked up at the mentioning of a drink. Not one to go past the point of a pint or two, in the old world at least, the cobbler had found some kind of solace in the cup. For good and for bad.
He despised it, he loved it. A chance to let the worries wash away for a night, but an opening for idiocy to go unchallenged, as evident by his little evening communion with the Shepherd. There was always that little something though, that gave him the nudge he so sorely needed to get past his own doubts and step into the unknown.
Sometimes drink, sometimes stubbornness, and sometimes boredom.
"Aye, drink. I could use a couple of those, always seem to get me in trouble though." the cobbler-warrior said with a laugh, mind fixed on what sense of optimism his father had instilled and pushing the strange gut feeling back down. "Selling your soul ain't something I'd do sober, I tell you that! Not that it ever did me much good in the first place."
An eternity it had seemed indeed, time slowing down to a crawl for a man used to never being out of work or talk. Restless would have been an understatement, absolutely teeming with a need to do something, but somehow patient enough to not interject as Nate made his way through his thoughts. He perked up at the mentioning of a drink. Not one to go past the point of a pint or two, in the old world at least, the cobbler had found some kind of solace in the cup. For good and for bad.
He despised it, he loved it. A chance to let the worries wash away for a night, but an opening for idiocy to go unchallenged, as evident by his little evening communion with the Shepherd. There was always that little something though, that gave him the nudge he so sorely needed to get past his own doubts and step into the unknown.
Sometimes drink, sometimes stubbornness, and sometimes boredom.
"Aye, drink. I could use a couple of those, always seem to get me in trouble though." the cobbler-warrior said with a laugh, mind fixed on what sense of optimism his father had instilled and pushing the strange gut feeling back down. "Selling your soul ain't something I'd do sober, I tell you that! Not that it ever did me much good in the first place."
