"I appreciate that. I don't handle some surprises well," he admits. That seems like a fair thing to warn Sweeney about, though waking up to a stranger in the room isn't really anything that will set him off.
"I'll try to do the same," he adds, just making it clear that he'll extended the same courtesy.
"'ppreciate it." His inflection speaks to a similar sentiment; he honestly doesn't care if Bull has companions over, even if they're fucking, so long as neither of them care that he sees it. A brief lull passes.
"Anythin' else we should talk 'bout?" It's an honest question.
"I ain't been in one place fer a long fuckin' time. An' I don't got much experience sharin' my room with folk I ain't fuckin'." Which he is not interested in doing with Bull. But he does want to make this arrangement work as smoothly as possible.
"I'm not the kind of guy that's gonna make a fuss about a lot," he says. "It's been a while since I've been packed in this tight, but I'm used to it." This might be all new to Sweeney, and Bull sympathizes with that, but this was a matter of routine for him until a decade ago.
"I lived in a barracks of one kind or another until I was thirty. You get used to personal space being up here." He gestures at his head. "Just let me know if I need to find somewhere else to be. I hate that we can talk to each other in our heads, but... it's useful. What about you? Sounds like you're adapting to more than I am - anything I should know?"
It's not really surprising that the man would be military or imprisoned or whatever it is his people do, but Sweeney'd be the first to admit that he knows fuckall about his world. Maybe they all look like him. It doesn't affect the leprechaun either way, but it is an interesting thought. The man's question is met with a shrug of one shoulder.
"They got fairytales where yer from? Folklore 'bout Wild spirits?" Otherwise, the rest of his explanation isn't going to make a whole lot of sense.
"Spirits, yeah. Demons, other things. Especially recently, the veil's been cracked open in a bunch of places and they wander into the world more. And I know folklore from a few different cultures. The Qunari - my people - don't have stories quite like that, but most human and elven cultures do."
Which is to say, yeah, he's heard stories about all kinds of powers in the world and what meanings other people invest in them. The Avaar have their natural spirits, the Dalish and humans have their gods.
Now that's a fucking relief; it makes for a much easier starting point. Sweeney nods.
"Where I'm from, humans basic'lly Believe things inta existin'. Gods, spirits, that sorta thing. Humans need them ta exist, so they just..." He scrunches his nose, looking for an acceptable word. "...will them inta bein'. They don't seems ta do it with clear intention; more just need ta explain nature shit or have a reason not ta let their kids go inta the woods." That's the short version.
"I've been one'a those Wild spirits fer a few hundred years, an' other shit b'fore that, 'cause of what humans b'lieved me ta be." He shrugs a shoulder, as if the topic is casual. "I've spent millennia in the company of gods an' such, so shit like this's kinda par fer the course." His focus shifts to the window, and he squints at it for a moment before returning his gaze to Bull.
"Lotta Stories like mine were written ta take place somewhere an' awful lot like this, so it's kinda like fallin' off a log." It's not a challenge to get back into.
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no subject
"I'll try to do the same," he adds, just making it clear that he'll extended the same courtesy.
no subject
"Anythin' else we should talk 'bout?" It's an honest question.
"I ain't been in one place fer a long fuckin' time. An' I don't got much experience sharin' my room with folk I ain't fuckin'." Which he is not interested in doing with Bull. But he does want to make this arrangement work as smoothly as possible.
no subject
"I lived in a barracks of one kind or another until I was thirty. You get used to personal space being up here." He gestures at his head. "Just let me know if I need to find somewhere else to be. I hate that we can talk to each other in our heads, but... it's useful. What about you? Sounds like you're adapting to more than I am - anything I should know?"
no subject
"They got fairytales where yer from? Folklore 'bout Wild spirits?" Otherwise, the rest of his explanation isn't going to make a whole lot of sense.
no subject
Which is to say, yeah, he's heard stories about all kinds of powers in the world and what meanings other people invest in them. The Avaar have their natural spirits, the Dalish and humans have their gods.
no subject
"Where I'm from, humans basic'lly Believe things inta existin'. Gods, spirits, that sorta thing. Humans need them ta exist, so they just..." He scrunches his nose, looking for an acceptable word. "...will them inta bein'. They don't seems ta do it with clear intention; more just need ta explain nature shit or have a reason not ta let their kids go inta the woods." That's the short version.
"I've been one'a those Wild spirits fer a few hundred years, an' other shit b'fore that, 'cause of what humans b'lieved me ta be." He shrugs a shoulder, as if the topic is casual. "I've spent millennia in the company of gods an' such, so shit like this's kinda par fer the course." His focus shifts to the window, and he squints at it for a moment before returning his gaze to Bull.
"Lotta Stories like mine were written ta take place somewhere an' awful lot like this, so it's kinda like fallin' off a log." It's not a challenge to get back into.