"It's not," he acknowledges, "And that's rather on purpose." He doesn't say anything for another long moment, takes a sip of his drink. He's not sure why he's hesitating now when he's the one who brought it up to tell her. Or rather, he does know, and it's not exactly becoming of him, but even so...
He chuckles softly, shakes his head,
"I would make you promise not to think differently of me, but I genuinely can't bring myself to believe you would. Perhaps it is I who make it seem something larger than it is, to tell you," another sip, but less for any reasons of stalling this time, just to prepare, "It is the surname given to bastards-- and in particular bastards whom might otherwise stand to inherit. The whole of Ishgard knows that I am the Count's son, breathing proof of his... indiscretions." Haurchefant shrugs just slightly, not as though it means nothing, but more just in that there is little he can do about that fact.
"I have earned the respect of every man and woman here at Camp Dragonhead. Soldiers all, and on the battlefield, it is one's deeds that make them worthy of praise, not their birth. In Foundation itself... it is not so simple," he looks up at Y'tajha and smiles. It's soft, but there's a little hint of a boyish sort of wickedness there, "And so I make my friends where I can and offer what warmth is mine to give," he raises the glass in a bit of a toast. "The world is too cold, else."
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He chuckles softly, shakes his head,
"I would make you promise not to think differently of me, but I genuinely can't bring myself to believe you would. Perhaps it is I who make it seem something larger than it is, to tell you," another sip, but less for any reasons of stalling this time, just to prepare, "It is the surname given to bastards-- and in particular bastards whom might otherwise stand to inherit. The whole of Ishgard knows that I am the Count's son, breathing proof of his... indiscretions." Haurchefant shrugs just slightly, not as though it means nothing, but more just in that there is little he can do about that fact.
"I have earned the respect of every man and woman here at Camp Dragonhead. Soldiers all, and on the battlefield, it is one's deeds that make them worthy of praise, not their birth. In Foundation itself... it is not so simple," he looks up at Y'tajha and smiles. It's soft, but there's a little hint of a boyish sort of wickedness there, "And so I make my friends where I can and offer what warmth is mine to give," he raises the glass in a bit of a toast. "The world is too cold, else."