Dawnlark Plains Stop, what the hell are you talking about?

Short post D:

She demanded his logic and it was now that his stony expression broke, lips splitting into a slight but toothy grin. If he had been more expressive, he might have laughed, but alas, he was not and the grin was lost to the stoic void once more as he opened his maw to answer her doubts. This one sees many unsaid things. Scars, a wound that would humble even a drengr, a fire that burns in the face of cold winds.

He paused now, thinking of how to string together his next words, a low and thoughtful sound humming through closed lips. Is this one wrong in such thoughts?