Standing before the map on the table, Galmar scowled at the multiple red flags on it. Damn Imperials, thinking they can take whats theirs. By the nine, he will tear their heads off and make them regret ever thinking they could take Skyrim from the Nords - the TRUE Brothers and sisters of Skyrim. With a scoff he slams his hand down on the table, causing the dagger at the side to slightly hop and nearly fall off the wooden surface. Galmar only looked up when hearing footsteps, expecting it to be Ulfric, but no. Instead it was someone else he was familiar with... And fond off, although the General would never say it out loud. "Did you need something or are you here to waste my time with idle chit-chat." he asks, his voice as gruff as always. He was just a little annoyed still, but he'd calm down. He always does eventually.