The hunter turned then and grabbed a damp towel from the sink basin, and wiped his hands down. The blood was sticky in his fingers, but came off with some friction easily enough. When Seren commented on his home, Noah's half-cocked smile turned to a warm grin. "It's a generational home," setting the towel down, he turned to face her again, "My grandather's grandfather built it, and Olsons have been living in it since." She stepped into the main room and looked around, rather than taking a seat at the table before the mug. Noah watched her for a moment, leaning against the back of the tall wooden chair where he had placed his own mug.
"Uh, no, I think my house is unique that way." He tried to make his statement a little vague, a little unknowing, but the truth was the hunter was confident: there was no home in Halo that donned such masterpieces as his. "Someone I once knew painted them for me."
Don't worry I'll keep you warm
