i ain't got your name on my hand

Halo had come, bringing the fittings he'd requested for the treehouse earlier in the season. Hell, when did Halo ever bring just what she said she would? It was a gracious gift, one that had reminded him of the Armada in all the right ways. Gifts often came with expectations, and it would break his heart to disappoint her even more than he worried he already had. No matter how much Halo swore he wasn't... well, you know how Dread is.

She bade him visit, so here he was. The young man waited at the border of the Col, not crossing over. Not wanting to enter the markets under false pretenses, but also... listen, he couldn't be assed walking all the way around. Instead, he approaches in a way that will catch the earliest view of the guard post. There's no aggression in his posture, there's no hostility. Dread has simply come to visit.

"Dread Fatalis"