It must be evident to anyone who watches the two men who's being led and who's doing the leading. Wrench doesn't seem to care. The brain texting might remove all tone from the words shared between them, but he snaps to attention every time the taller man seemingly barks an order. When they walk, Wrench follows at least a half-step behind Sandor without ever trying to get out ahead or lead them on their way. He seems to follow the man's command without questioning or demanding acknowledgment for himself.

Even inside the tavern, Wrench doesn't argue about footing the bill for two rounds. He doesn't have money to his name, really, but he's seen few circumstances where as much is necessary around Solvunn. Most people seem willing to accept trade, and most are willing to let Wrench make good on the promise of fish or slabs of preserved meat or the pelts of whatever he's felled. He gets them both a drink, having well and truly worked off his breakfast, and sits across from Sandor.

You killing people with swords every day, back home?