Redsand Canyon They came to see you spit your game

He hadn't heard the steps of the other man over the sound of the water, something that might have irritated him if that man standing in front of him hadn't reminded him so much of Alarian. His throat tightened and he stared at the Overseer, his violet gaze intense as his fractured mind tried to make sense of things. His scarred face, his lithe frame, his coat made of browns and greys—it was so similar to the one who used to be his. 

He hadn't even noticed that he had raised himself up to lay sternally almost immediately after he had opened his eyes to gaze upon the other man. Midar cleared his throat and drew in a long breath to try and steady his heart. Yes, he finally answered. It's hot, and I was trying to stay cool until the sun set, he explained, his voice sounding more normal with each word. Had it been anyone else, his answer would definitely have had less words and more cussing. 

I'm Midar, he said next, offering a stiff nod as he spoke. Then he gave an expectant raise of an eyebrow as he waited for the scarred man to reciprocate his introduction.