Phantom Hollow As fresh as a daisy,

Hunst’s smirk turned wry as he looked at her, his Northern accent thickening. Aye, men can be right meatheads, he chuckled, the sound rumbling low. Charging in, fists before words, and thinking with little but bone between the ears.

He leaned back, a touch of playful challenge in his gaze. But a bit o’ brute strength’s got its place, doesn’t it? Keeps the reckless sorts from stirring up too much trouble. He raised a brow, his eyes glinting with humor. Not all of us can talk our way out o’ things, after all. Some of us are better suited for the… blunt approach.

Then, with a shrug, he added, Though maybe I’ll give this anarchist talk a try—don’t look too shocked if it’s not quite natural.