The Dwarf’s thick brows furrow, and he slowly turns around. “Oh… sorry. I didn’t… ahem.” He puts his poor away; tucking it into his belt. He clears his throat again. “I’ll get out of your way.”
He’s never considered that before. As is obvious from his expression of revelation. Taking another glance at the swords, he huns. “If it’s anything like setting a stone into a pendant then I’ll be fine.”
“I saw a smithy in town. So I know where to start, at least.” The more he talks, the more his mind and tongue slowly grow to remember maintaining conversation. “Do you know any craft skills?”
He nods and fiddles with one of the braids on his beard. “Aye, that’s what my cousins and I did as kids. I just… kept doing it until… ahem. Yes it’s a good start.”