By the gods, how was it so humid here already? The warmth, the damp air, he could feel the damp where it settled on his coat and in his lungs. Víðarr makes it no secret, he's less than pleased with the very feel of it in his system. The fishman seemed to like it well enough, and the viking could not fathom why.
At least Hattori didn't keep him waiting long. He appeared, greeting stiff, though not unkind. Silence settles between them, though they'd likely both rather get through this meeting. "Hattori." It's a familiarity, this time. Víðarr respected him, though he's made his missteps in the relationship. "I have settled my pack, Heiðinn, in the north east. Fenrir's Maw." The challenge had come and gone without much fanfare. Spectatorship had been low, something that Víðarr would use to his advantage. He had control over the narrative, how the others would learn his name. How the others would see the viking and his hordes for the first time.
"I would like to discuss settling my debts, and moving forward." Víðarr speaks plainly, directly. His icy gaze remained steady on Hattori, assessing as he did. His tone is metered and neutral. Politics was never his strong suit, but he's doing what he can now.
"Víðarr"
Víðarr has two Karelian bear dogs and a white morph tawny owl. Assume they're within calling distance unless otherwise stated.
Víðarr speaks with a dense Swedish accent.
Cooperative
![[Image: bfcOTDt.png]](https://i.imgur.com/bfcOTDt.png)
