Hoshor Plains just carry this gun, you'll even get paid

Ryzhov missed the implications of what the other man was thinking. His examination was purely analytical. He was large, an athletic build that Ryz could appreciate… he could be a good soldier if he wanted to. His eyes were dull but his personality seemed to mitigate that lack of a spark. Ryzhov hardly thought that undying loyalty was intense. “It is the life of a soldier, to be loyal to one’s commander.” It helped that the commander was his friend as well, they had a bond that ran deep.
 
He kept a sharp analytical gaze on the man. A man without commitment was hardly a man at all. It was the nature of their ways… and he hummed, considering for a moment teaching the man of commitment, likely not in the way that the man before him was intending to come across. There was a soft sigh at the lack of the woman’s presence in his memory. “Black fur, brown eyes… always reeks of the herbs she so desperately clings to in order to feel alive.” It was his own interpretation of the incident. He had learned basic healing structures simply because he did not wish to rely on a woman for anything… it wouldn’t look pretty, and it would scar, but he could prevent someone from dying at least.
 
“Commitment is an artform.” He simply stated, finally taking a seat in front of the man though that sharp gaze never dissipated. “What could you possibly know of it. Not for you? It is a mindset, not a way of life.”