Step 2: Stop falling for "the enemy"

The market was such a familiar place, the constant din of the patrons such an integral aspect of his life, that he felt completely at ease there. He'd taken over the armourer's stand for the day, some of his handiwork to be placed on display for interested parties. Even though the market had been open for a little while, he was only just arriving. Laden with leather and metal, he moved slow and heavily. The thunderous reverberations of his paws colliding with the stone floor alerted most patrons of his presence before he got close enough, and he rarely had to ask someone to move out of his way. There was always a bottleneck at the entrance as the guards gave everyone a once over, so he was loitering for a moment or two before he was waved through. Head slung low between his shoulders, he paused as he spotted a very anxious fae lingering by the doorway. Her scent was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it amidst the flood of strange odours overwhelming his senses.

"Hey," he grunted, taking a wobbly half step towards her. He wasn't particularly steady with the sideways motions with one bum leg and roughly fifty pounds of hardware strapped to his back. "you looking for something?" the dun coloured titan was probably a bit intimidating, and the gruff attitude wasn't doing any favours, but at least he was trying? "I can point you in the right direction if you're trying to find something specific." he added, trying to soften the furrow in his brow and the rough edge of his voice.