It's quick to hear who the Templars are. Were, and Maker, but this place collects past-tense - almost enough to make him reconsider; grab an axe and hope there's still room for a one-handed soldier,

Almost.

"Ser Keen," Familiarity over formality, this isn't the field. Cedric slides into the bench opposite. "Hope you don't mind."

"If I don't eat slow," He blows on his bowl between words. "Sister Heiss'll rise up to haunt me."