The woman that approached was heavily scarred on her face, a trait that Carthage found admirable. She’d made it through such trial with a memorable scar, but perhaps she didn’t feel the same as he. Carthage admired his scars, proof of victory or skill in his life. He supposed others could feel differently than he, but he didn’t understand why. Scars were evidence of trials one has triumphed. She didn‘t seem too shy about them though, which made him feel a little easier on the subject.
Mentioning Tyranis brought and ill taste to his mouth and he hadn’t even said it. He doubted he‘d care should she drown the newest Klein, but he knew Hannibal would have something to say about it, or at least he hoped he would. “Something tells me he’d be relieved, actually.” He laughed a little, playing it off as a joke but leaving some truth in there. He’d let her decide if she wanted to poke and prod for more information as he wasn’t going to readily offer it to her. He might not be the most secret one out there, but he won‘t unload everything about him either.
Finally introducing herself, Carthage looked at her from the water he’d been gazing at while they spoke. “Carthage, though my family calls me Carnage.” He wondered if she’d question this, why he had such a.. morbid name. Perhaps it was self explanatory, but he’d let her decide. His eyes found her facial scar again, and he was itching to know how they had been earned.
“Forgive me for asking, but how did you get your scars?” He hoped to sound positive as if he were just looking for a good story. Perhaps he was, but in fact he was actually just nosey. It probably wasn’t her business and he wouldn’t hold it against her should she decided to not want to tell him. It‘d always be in the back of his mind bothering him, but he could live with it if she was uncomfortable sharing.
