All this time that he’s been here, and the biggest threat Wrench has faced has come in the form of a few minor windstorms. Sure, there was that littl pack of Darkhounds, but he managed to dispatch them without much injury. Anyway, even those threats felt mostly external. Acted upon this place, rather than from it. He has to wonder why, then, he hasn’t managed to learn a better way of greeting a person than sizing them up?

Maybe he’s just naturally predisposed to look for differences. Maybe it’s that predisposition that means Wrench tends to find exactly what he’s looking for. In any case, he shrugs off the younger man’s apologies, and finds after a moment a compulsion to take it one step further than that.

The part of your introduction you forgot is the world you come from. Some people here are the Gods of their own worlds. Or the kings. Guess you haven’t met the sentient shark, either?

He waves it off, like it’s a thing for another time. Though the mention of payment sends his eyebrows arcing up again.

They give you money in your welcome basket?