...I was a young adolescent at the time and somewhat hot-headed.
[Byleth. Hot-headed. But it was true, er, in a way. He had still been a blank-faced creepy child that unnerved most grown mercenaries, but he'd been far more eager to prove himself to Jeralt, and picking a fight with a drunken mercenary three times his size and weight had been how he had decided to do it.
Byleth had won, of course, and Jeralt had found the entire thing more amusing than anything (though he'd still scolded him for causing trouble - never mind Jeralt had instigated a barfight himself only a few nights prior! The hypocrisy of parents...).]
no subject
[Byleth. Hot-headed. But it was true, er, in a way. He had still been a blank-faced creepy child that unnerved most grown mercenaries, but he'd been far more eager to prove himself to Jeralt, and picking a fight with a drunken mercenary three times his size and weight had been how he had decided to do it.
Byleth had won, of course, and Jeralt had found the entire thing more amusing than anything (though he'd still scolded him for causing trouble - never mind Jeralt had instigated a barfight himself only a few nights prior! The hypocrisy of parents...).]
Jeralt found it funny, at least.
[...]
In any case, it's my turn, yes?