I wouldn’t. I’ve got manners. [Ones he’s happy to abandon generally, but the difference between rough and rude tends to fall along the lines of if someone knows better and chooses to break mores anyway, and Dixon falls more along the latter. And he is appreciative to the elves, just protective of the others. The welcome has been warm
and vital, just the culture shock a little discouraging to navigate.

He takes a moment to think about that, to try and work out his answer. He’s glad she looks at something else, because he always assumes people are looking at the burns and doesn’t like to think things out in front of others. Like them watching will make words harder. ]

There’s just nowhere else that I’d particularly want to be. [A part of him will always yearn for home, for the one bedroom house with the yard and the porch looking out onto a quiet street, but he knows he can’t go back there. All that’s left for him is his momma and his unemployment and the forty thousand in medical bills he left her with, the damage he’s done to her life. And he doesn’t have the imagination to dream of anywhere else.]

It’s just that questing - I don’t know, maybe you’re used to it. Did you start out used to it or do you eventually get over a learning curve?