All, you old-time queens

When Pump spoke, Kennedy had to hold back a whole slew of words that he wished to speak. Some semblance of etiquette still lived deep within him, and he knew that Pump was to be respected. “Is 'everything' an acceptable answer?” he asked. He doubted it was, but at this point, he did not care. It was better than the rant he wished to rattle off, or the mocking laugh he had considered putting right in her face.

Kennedy had come to the ridge looking for a new life. Looking for some way to make himself accomplished. And what had he gotten? A broken leg, shamed by a near-stranger who did not want him, and now pity from his leader. He still had no children, no name for himself. And now he had nothing to live for. No lady would take him like this, and Xi'nuata had been quick to remind him of that. He would never be fit to lead with a broken leg, even once it healed. And with his recent change in demeanour, it was unlikely that others would ever look up to him in any way, shape, or form.