blessed by his hands

The boy sputtered, earning an approving smile from the viking king.  He's relaxed, allowing more of himself to show through as well.  Though Víðarr does much for his public reputation, he balances it with the real man.  Pride washes over his face, his tone, as he looks at the boy.  Really, a fine young man.  

Though it doesn't escape him that Akito is biting back a cough, he won't draw attention to it.  It would come in time.  Víðarr simply sits and listens as he speaks of the girls, a little twitch to his dark lips as he mentions the girls.  Dear, sweet Maki, that didn't surprise him much.  There was also the question of Artorias, one that led the viking king to lift his eyebrows.  Clove had come to visit with her father, not all that long ago. "Artorias and I have met, yes. Clove and Maki are both nice girls." It's an approving tilt of his chin, another sip of his mead. Pausing, before he answers Akito's bigger question.

"Let them do most of the talking. Ask them questions, be interested. Show them you care, remember what they like, think about things that would make their lives easier." He thinks for a moment, looking to Akito with a warmth about him. "You are always welcome to visit the mountain." Brows lifting-- Maki does happen to live on that mountain. The supervision was loose, and they're yearlings. It's an open door for the boy, if he'd like it.

"Víðarr"