Having grown up in the slums and barely held any decent jobs, Iron Head couldn't stand such remarks.
He straightened his back and beat his chest, full of assurances.
As if the Gray Badger Gang would be handed over to him tomorrow.
In response, Eight Finger narrowed his eyes, offered a few words of encouragement, kindly patted his shoulder, and let him go about his own business.
Even though this kid claimed he had nothing to do with those two professionals earlier and just happened to run into them.
But who knows what they talked about along the way, or if they developed some sort of rapport.
Being nicer to him could potentially connect him with those two.
Eight Finger mused over this as he drew back his gaze.
His fingertips gently caressed the texture of the statue's surface, feeling the cold touch coming from it.
For some unknown reason, the once hideously ugly wood carving, only held for a short while, turned pleasing to the eye.
