Clayton, The young errant knight of Hoar, is seen smirking faintly at the kossuthian's words. Sitting on a bench that cold night in the commons, coolly resting a hand on his longsword hilt, watching him speak and tell his tale. Dull grey eyes following him as the kossuthian walks by with his story, he then states, musing and adding a twist of sarcasm. "A flaming bird flies about, spluttering squeeks of nonsense to some diety." He shakes his head, commenting with a soft chuckle. "What a drear." His dull grey eyes find themselves rolled above a smile as he pulls himself off the bench to stand upright, and walks off towards the inn in the middle of the preist's tale.