PETER
Morgan. Being on a first name basis with the General was not a privilege he had expected right away, but one that he accepted with a quiet nod. He looks at the offered chair, steps closer as if he is going to sit, but never makes the move to. "I would... prefer to stand, if you don't mind." He explains softly, bare hands gripping the back of the chair, the scars there stretching pale and strange.
His eyes move over her as she sits, pulls out a string of... beads? Strange. It's information he files away for later, when he doesn't have to be so focused on making a good impression. He nods again when she says he's an outlander, as if she needs his confirmation to be sure. The question though, gives him pause, and he takes a moment to think, nearly drawing his lip between his teeth before remembering the company he's in. "I have been in positions like this for... most of my life." His words are slow, but steady, his tongue careful to not stumble over anything.
It takes him another breath to figure out how to consolidate everything, all of his skills, his experience, into an easy few words, how to make them convincing. "When I was young, I... helped with the training of soldiers and spies in the camp I lived in, and... when I was older I was second in command in a similar organization." He shifted then, lifting his chin a little in an uncharacteristic show of confidence, a show only made to make his next words less disparaging. "This is a... larger group than I have worked with before, but it seems to have been well run without someone like me."
His eyes move over her as she sits, pulls out a string of... beads? Strange. It's information he files away for later, when he doesn't have to be so focused on making a good impression. He nods again when she says he's an outlander, as if she needs his confirmation to be sure. The question though, gives him pause, and he takes a moment to think, nearly drawing his lip between his teeth before remembering the company he's in. "I have been in positions like this for... most of my life." His words are slow, but steady, his tongue careful to not stumble over anything.
It takes him another breath to figure out how to consolidate everything, all of his skills, his experience, into an easy few words, how to make them convincing. "When I was young, I... helped with the training of soldiers and spies in the camp I lived in, and... when I was older I was second in command in a similar organization." He shifted then, lifting his chin a little in an uncharacteristic show of confidence, a show only made to make his next words less disparaging. "This is a... larger group than I have worked with before, but it seems to have been well run without someone like me."
and our memories defeat us
and I’ll end this duress
and I’ll end this duress
