@gingersmiith asked:
"Sorry, 'scuse me, runnin' late--" The boy -- and he /is/ a boy, for all he's six feet tall -- pushes past Drautos, red hair blazing in the morning sun. Red hair is unusual enough, but the voice sounds like Cavaugh, not Insomnia.
@captdrautos answered:
He’d be pissed, any other day, at a guy knocking into him and spilling half a four-gil cup of coffee onto the ground, but the accent distracts him from his irritation, and Titus reaches, grabbing the (youth’s?) arm before he can get too far out of reach.
“Hey, you--”
Can’t be Elmere dialect-- Titus was too young to know better and old enough to be scared out of his mind when the Empire showed up long enough to raze the whole place to the ground, and when he finally gets a good look at this kid, there’s no way he could be from Elmere, he probably wasn’t even born yet.
“Your accent. Where’re you from?”
Tredd’s not expecting to be pulled to a sudden halt, iron grip firm around his bicep. Hackles raised, he whirls on his captor, ready to fight when the Question is asked.
The Question has yet to end well for him.
“Cavaugh,” he snaps, trying to tug free.
No dice.
And then slowly the man’s size dawns on him. Tredd isn’t short by any means, he matched his sister’s six feet last year. But he feels short next to him.
And the accent... also isn’t Insomnian.
“...Kilgore,” he adds, grudgingly. “A long time ago.”
