It's obvious Dimitri's got a history with violence. Even seated in the downstairs of the Oak and Iron, he carries the sword at his hip with the effortless self-awareness of a limb. It may as well be a bodily part of him when he's never seen without it. An observant onlooker might notice how he keeps his back to a wall, monitoring sightlines the rooms entrances and exits. His demeanor seems casual, but any sudden sound or movement snaps him to alertness, calculating threat and reaction.

That assessing gaze sweeps over Jon, with a polite nod when Dimitri sees his attention's returned. (His demeanor is casual enough, but -- is that a twinge of threat? The Eye's suspicion of a rival predator?)

It's not hard to get him talking about it. He's not ashamed of his past; he hesitates for the benefit of his listener, not himself. It's an unpleasant story. Are you sure -- ?

Well. As long as you're sure.

It's quieter once they step outside the Oak and Iron's bustling bar area. Late summer means the light lasts long into the evening, but the breeze is cool, carrying the beginnings of the night's insect chorus. Dimitri stands against the tavern wall, crosses his arms, and pauses again, contemplating where to begin.

"What do you know of the Kingdom of Faerghus, Mr. Sims?"