I'm not a man of words, never've been and never will. "Simple mind" carries on its back a lot of flak, insults and general negative meanings, but that's what I am. A fighter, I was. A builder, still am. But no poet, ma'am, no playwright. That's one reason, for my short replies.
There's three more, at least. One is spirit, ale, alcohol. It numbs minds just like use dulls blades not cared for. Can't say I don't welcome it, in days like these. Not now, tho.
Another is surprise. Doesn't matter if I started meetin' new people, new faces and new voices. The months in the Bastion, guidin' the Kid first, the fight with Zulf, then the evacuation, the travel...it all is quite lumbering. The world has been us four for so long, and no one else to cling to. Others still seem weird. Alien.
And the last is similar, isn't it, but more precise. Because this one woman, beautiful beyond words (but here, in this land, they oft' are), feels in here like the Calamity on two legs. She ain't right, she ain't true, she ain't fittin'. Death all around, in the ground and in the words, and she ain't part of it.
I reply to her words. I left an awful lot of life behind, miss, I say. You can't drink to death while life's around. She's a clingy bitch, she gets jealous.
So I am here, back to back with her. She doesn't belong to this place, she doesn't belong to my company. Well, it's probably the other way 'round, isn't it. Still doesn't stop me from offering her the bottle. Mother won't get too fussy just 'cause there's a new person at her party, will she.