Thiollier was looking up at the unfamiliar Tarnished, who now stood before him. Thiollier's face was hidden behind the tranquil sleeping mask; which only left his timid voice to reveal his emotions. He had expected the Tarnished to have already left, and yet here they still stand, baring down over him like an unstoppable warrior.

"Um, I'm sorry," He spoke softly, as his concealed gaze drifted down from the Tarnished's own, head tilting with it. "...but well, I'm not much good at anything, at all. I'm weak as a kitten and thick as two planks. I've always been this way. I'm proficient in poison. Sorry..."

Thiollier shifted slightly where he sat upon the hard rock, hands clasped in his lap. He didn't know what the Tarnished could've expected from him; a weak little thing. Thiollier felt he would've been a terrible partner to travel with, and an even worse companion in battle... Yet, what was he to do to persuade an insistent Tarnished?