His master is going to kill him, he thinks.

The thought comes to Ajax amidst the absentminded tuning of his balalaika. Skirk has never been fond of standing idly, but—this is where their perspectives differ—what’s the point of hunting down monsters if he isn't to appreciate the beauty his travels have to offer?

Namely, you.

Speak of the devil—he catches movement behind the curtains, with you peeking at him warily through the gap. Your younger brother, also his most dutiful wingman, must’ve informed you of his arrival. The little shit is going to drain his funds dry with all the bribing he’s doing.

Now, what song shall he play for you today? You’ve exhausted his supply of romantic pieces, he’ll have to learn new ones soon. Perhaps a more gloomy tune? You are making him sad with your determination to play hard to get.

The door swings open before he can even begin strumming, and a victorious grin splits across Ajax’s face. Whether you come out to berate him for disrupting your morning or not, he considers it a win either way.