Griffin

Nothing wrong with metal plate.

[Old man noises]

as he can, barely making use of the cane in his hand.

"Well," he murmured only loud enough for Percy's ears, arm draping lightly over his shoulders, "I could hardly refuse such a generous invitation.

I hope you did not plan to depart before daylight."

He draws away before Griffin can volley back, before he's really even found his breath again with an answer like [that.] So he waits instead, his smoking gaze openly following Percy's lithe movements. When he rises to follow, he forces himself to bear as much of his weight on his own feet

Fortune favors the bold.

"You [should] know, first," he prefaces, "my mobility is not what it was in my younger years.

Though [other] skills of mine have more than made up that ground..."

...And there's an insecurity there, certainly, behind swagger and a veneer that could be pushed over with a single careless touch.

And yet, half the fun was in drawing his eye, in drawing him nearer. For all his confidence, though, Griffin still blushed like a green recruit on his first leave when Percy's touch cast a shiver down his spine.

He sets aside his drink, considering the offer, or pretending it [needs] consideration.

"And what sort of man do you think that is, Percy?"

He lingers with his a while yet, still gauging how deeply it affects him - and perhaps needing a more persistent push from his earlier malaise. Another fair swig, and his grin already belies his next words.

"Ah, is that so?" He leaned more heavily on the hand resting at Percy's back, murmuring,

Hm. One might be forgiven for thinking you give a damn.

"I cannot believe someone such as yourself isn't used to such sentiments. Handsome and humble to boot, eh?"

He winks over the rim of his mug as he takes another deep swig.

His growing air of confidence quickly shifts to mild alarm. His hand raises to thump Percy on the back, but he thinks better of it. When he settles back, and in good humor at that, he lets the hand settle on the back of Percy's seat.

And under such encouragement his smile returns quickly.

Wh-

No, [no.] I do not require a babysitter, nor must you delete me. God forbid I endure [that] introduction again...

...I did not say that.

I believe you have already noted I am no longer a citizen.

Does no one keep their eyes – or... optic devices – to themselves here

Are having a drink at the bar.

And the robot is minding his own business, yes?

He looks a little longer, now, drinking in Percy's profile more readily with self-doubt set aside.

"And how could it not," his rumbling voice carries between them, "with such a charming gentleman as yourself in their midst?"

If it would allow Griffin to push aside his own troubled thoughts, he would call it a happy benefit, and ignore how eagerly he embraced it.

"[That] is a true warrior's spirit: push on past any obstacle and you will doubtlessly reach victory. Comradery will come with time."

Let others advise minute strategy or reason with his worries – the man beside him, to his assessment, needs encouragement, and perhaps a distraction.

leaning against the bar to accommodate traffic attempting to squeeze past his shoulders. "I have only rarely fought beside any I had not first built a brot– no, a kinship with. How long have you known the others?"

scattering constructive thought to the ends of the room. He flags the young woman tending bar.

"Two more, dear woman." In one bout, he drains his tankard and wipes his mouth upon his arm as it thumps down to the bar again. While they wait he slowly, carefully shifts his body to turn towards Percy,

But the brews in this tavern are far headier than the common remnants of the old world and cellar distillations of its successors, and even his hulking figure is unaccustomed to that strength. He finds his head swimming back to Percy's mention of a dragon,

Between the fantastical words pulled straight from the stories he obsessed over in his youth there's something familiar in a young man, ready for a fight against overwhelming odds but fraying under the pressure. He wonders, briefly, if he should share more of his tale.

I'll be honest I didn't even realize there was a jail I kind of blacked out when I saw him

and in listening to an old relic's woes.

Why don't you tell me about your night, and allow me to return the favor?" For the first time, he turns in his seat, allowing himself a better look at the man beside him.

It feels as if he's been disarmed without a hint of effort. He only struggles against it a moment before he huffs a near-laugh, even if there's no mirth in it. The old man's hand settles on his arm where the hunter's had lingered.

"You are very kind, both in your words,

The headstrong fool in him wants to argue, to never give quarter, always charge on, on and ignore anything in his path, however bleak it might be. He should have remembered the hunter's reputation, though, and the reasons he was so well-liked in Haven Lake.

Until he almost seems to recite to his tankard...

"The Minutemen fell while I played hero. Twice a good woman needed me; twice I failed her in arrogance, and along the road destroyed any use I had left. The world I knew saw it.

If nothing else, [this] one might offer quiet end to a wasteful life."