"I'm told that women love battle scars; and perhaps it will make me fit in somewhat better among my Asgardian kin." A slightly less dry laugh, as he shrugs.
He extends a hand to her, an inquiring gesture. "And you, Lady Asleif? Did this lowly half-blood do well to protect thee?"
There's an obvious bit of dramatics in his wording, but there's an almost imperceptible undercurrent of bitterness as he mentions 'half-blood'.
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