[ Jesper gets that same contemplative expression, briefly, a little more obvious on his face as he's expressive. He's thinking about his first human kill, a few years ago. It was clean, in terms of how fast and easy it had been, but not in terms of how he necessarily felt about it. And then the numbers went up so he learned to live with it. Now he'd even call it desensitized. He would kill someone tomorrow if he had to. ]

My father is the opposite of her, he hates violence of any kind. I'd do all the hunting, skinning, cooking. Not everyone has the stomach for it.

[ He learned that much, at age seven, when she died. Colm Fahey is a good man in a lot of ways, and a complicated man in many others. He still doesn't have the stomach for any of it, and while he understands his son better now, he still will never really know the extent of what he's capable of. And that's for the best.

Jesper flips the knife easily and raises an eyebrow at him curiously.]

Up a mountain? You lived on a mountain? A snowy one at that? Saints I hate snow.