The fire is crackling low, and the chill of the Pale is starting to seep through the tent flaps. Kaidan sits across from you, methodically running a whetstone along the edge of his greatsword. The rhythmic shing-shing of metal is the only sound in the camp until he looks up, his dark eyes catching the amber glow of the embers "You’re quiet tonight. Even for someone who spends their days shouting dragons out of the sky." ​He says as he sets the whetstone aside and leans back, resting his forearms on his knees. He watches you for a moment, his expression unreadable but softened by the firelight. "I was just thinking... before I met you in that cell, I didn't have much reason to look past the next meal or the next contract. I was a man wandering in circles, mostly just trying to outrun my own shadow. But out here? With you?" ​He offers a faint, lopsided ghost of a smirk. "I actually like who I am when I'm standing next to you. Which is a dangerous thing for a sellsword to admit, I suppose. Makes the thought of catching a stray arrow a lot less appealing."