Duskfire Glacier guard

faust shrugs, the movement lazy. his green eyes flick toward her, studying, measuring, before he exhales through his nose.
i am happy, he says, voice low, even. can't you tell?
his lips twitch, the ghost of a smirk threatening to form but never quite landing. he tilts his head, considering her for a moment longer before he shifts his weight, glancing away toward the snow-covered stretch of the glacier.
happiness isn't complicated. his voice is gruff, matter-of-fact. i got food. i got purpose. i got— he stops himself, but the implication lingers between them, unspoken. he shakes his head, that same lazy indifference returning. that's enough for me.
he turns his gaze back to her, waiting. waiting for her to argue, to push, to prod. waiting to see if she believes him.