“Seems the kinda fellow you want to fight beside you, and not against you,” Susan rolls her eyes, tossing the fellow carelessly, “Whatever. Looks like any other gnarled, seasoned war veteran.”
Sipping at her cup she’d muse after swallowing, a smirk on her lips, “I bet he plays the flute and dances in the fuckin’ moonlight. Or some other kinda pansy shit.”
Thank you, @khadorek!