"Always so cold my love, why is that ye don't appreciate the goods of a finely crafted weapon? It's curved lines, soft to touch, yet cold like ice. Yeah, one could say describing a scimitar is like describing ye darling, but I'm speaking of the weapon here." Petron smiles to Lia. All this time working hadn't let him joke much, and now he is emptying all his repertoire at once. His childish smile on him, he wonders off in search for Erik. He had some more jokes to make.