When she turned toward him his smile broadened, matching her's. He had always liked Weaver, and her family. He knew the horrors she had faced, he knew the heaviness of losing those you loved. They shared this, the Hales and the Olsons, this orphan life. These orphan hearts. The Halovians were a rugged, enduring sort of people, but families like the Hales and the Olsons knew this differently--lived this differently. He took another swig of the ale, hissing at its taste as he swallowed. He didn't know why he always asked for this, but he drank it nonetheless and continued to every time he came in. Habit, he guessed.
"Ah, yeah." He laughed some, rolling his shoulders in as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the bar counter. "Just another day in Halo." His mother had been an optimistic sort of woman, and the way Weaver responded reminded him of that. The world could have been going to complete shit outside of their windows, but Anya had always made it seem like there was a silver lining somewhere. As a child Noah had often found this annoying, but in her absence it was a pang in his heart. "Been trying to fill up on as much game as we can, but I've hit a bit of a dry streak." Business, sometimes, was his way to ease any turmoil. "I think some of it has to do with those Outlanders coming in. More traffic, more people, less animals."
