Tuktu Weir confessions of a sociopath

Trajan laughs lightly at Delight's words, probably the first time he's laughed in the boy's presence. He's not sure why, if he's being honest. The boy wasn't being particularly funny, nor was he particularly funny, not at the moment, at least, but Trajan finds it amusing that their pack wasn't even official and here they were, two unofficial soon-to-be packmates of this fledgling pack, gossiping about their leader and his might be girlfriend. There's something about this situation that appeals to the Roman — perhaps it is the freedom and the lack of discipline. Rome has toughened him and strengthened him, shaped him into the man he is today. Perhaps Tindómë would teach him to relax and learn.
"What?" Trajan smiles easily now and casts Delight an amused glance. "Too nice for you?" He doesn't admit it, but it is too nice for him as well. He isn't used to forests, in general, but he's even more not used to nice quiet places. Rome, or at least his family's branch of it, was a good place, but it was hard and tough and resilient. It was a place built for battles and wars and conquerers; this is a place of scholars and knowledge. Suddenly, Trajan is overwhelmed — what if he doesn't fit here? He's notably a soldier, not a scholar. But, he thinks after a moment, soldiers could be scholars in their own way. He would learn more about the art of war. That thought amuses him immensely. 
"Mercenary is my primary trade," he informs Delight almost absentmindedly. "I'm not sure about my secondary. Maybe Counselor, maybe Scout, I haven't quite decided." And he won't be deciding for quite a while, preferring to focus on his primary trade before moving elsewhere to something else. "What about you?" Trajan turns his mismatched gaze onto the boy, his pace slowing just a bit and he cants his head curiously.