Blackfeather Woods I know it's just a number but you're the eighth wonder

"Don't think so," admitted Ramsay as he awkwardly tried to lift a hind leg to scratch at his ear. It was a contortionist's act that took him several long seconds of silence to achieve, and when he dropped his leg he gave his bulky shoulders a shake and snorted.

Gathering news was his brother's forte. What Ramsay did was more straightforward work. In fact, it was hardly work at all; he merely existed. He didn't hunt like his brother, or offer prayers for the Brotherhood like his sister. Much of what he did with his time was self-serving. They were so much like the Meloniis before them that it was frightening, but having never known Potema or Damien, he didn't know it. Euron was exactly like Cicero from Ramsay's perspective, though: clever, quiet, secretive and knowledgeable. So he had to ask, "do you?"