Señor Ekkehardt was a strange man at times. He was careful and cautious, like he said before, but not the sort he'd expect from someone shy. Perhaps more of what he'd expect from someone who'd lived in the outlands but even then, this doesn't strike him as paranoia or fear. This is just Ekkehardt.

"Sidelines too, huh?" He bobs his head. "I guess that's pretty evident, what with us choosing to sit here." He pats a hand to the bar counter. It's not how he would've seen himself once, the spotlight and all its draws playing with his head, but he knows himself better now. Or he hopes he does.

"How many years have you been here? You know, as opposed to your home."

His home in the outlands. He can't help but try to picture it. He's almost certain it's nothing like the doom and gloom castle that keeps popping into this head.