To Train Or Not To Train...

Gil was a man of few words. He lacked the ability to really be empathetic, but in a way, since becoming a father, he had a better understanding. The thing he didn't understand the most was why Ignis would give such a fuck about what his offspring did. As he listened to Rivin lay out all of the details, his ears fell back. His face scrunches up and he isn't sure what to say at first. It was a lot of information to process since he wasn't aware of such... trials and tribulations between Ignis and his offspring. Should the man even be reproducing at this point? A rumble builds in his throat as he decides he needs to have a discussion with the red fury.

"Why do you care what your father has to say?" Gil questions, his voice is... stern, but in a fatherly way. Curious and slightly prodding. He felt that maybe Rivin needed to get more off of her chest than she was relaying. "I am glad you are transplanting from the gulley. You should work with Sakana and Modesty to get a garden growing. There is a clearing off the south of the building that might prove useful," there is no arguing with Gil. If Rivin didn't want to fight, he would not force her. Plus, they needed good healers, ones that could help them after raids. Help him too. The creak in his wrist wasn't getting any better.