Redhawk Caldera I'd rather make it mine.

Nervous fellow. Llewellyn shoots him a fleeting smile, affecting friendliness. "I'm new here, myself," he says. "My name is Cadwalader. Do you live on this mountain, or somewhere down below, like me?" His eyes linger on the scars, the obvious trauma. What has happened to this poor man? For a moment, he almost feels bad, and wants to know his life's story.

But of course, that would be wasting time. That wouldn't do, one bit. Instead, he shifts on his paws, admiring the view and waiting for the stranger's response.