A tall man of Highlander stock, clad in dark leathers and with long hair and an instrument case hanging from his hip, stood his ground as the Elezen woman made her pitch, and looked her squarely in the eye.
"You're going to have a hell of a time convincing me, love, considering you just cast your eyes and your flier at the man who is probably more free than perhaps anyone else in this arid city. Now, if you get tired of being the voice of freedom, and painting a target on your back big enough to be seen from Horizon, maybe we can have something to dry our throats and I might show you what freedom really is."
"You're going to have a hell of a time convincing me, love, considering you just cast your eyes and your flier at the man who is probably more free than perhaps anyone else in this arid city. Now, if you get tired of being the voice of freedom, and painting a target on your back big enough to be seen from Horizon, maybe we can have something to dry our throats and I might show you what freedom really is."
"But in the laugh there was another voice. A clearer laugh, an ironic laugh. A laugh which laughs because it chooses not to weep."
![[Image: 3610850.jpg]](http://assets-cloud.enjin.com/users/1266293/pics/original/3610850.jpg)
