no mercy has the sea

Bolearis looks Gorg up and down - and it's mostly up, considering how tall the other bloke is.

"Dunno if I've ever seen an Agnian with this many...glowy bits."

Gorg laughs, a measured amount, and flicks his gaze to the Power Frames on Bolearis's chest, shoulders, hips, and - for a rare thing - belt. Don't they all glow, regardless of affiliation or origin? It just so happens that the merman's Blade body is covered in circular patches reminiscent of portholes, making the comparison either more or less apt.

From the lieutenant's cross looks, maybe it's a little more toward less.

So Gorg relents, planting his greataxe head-down and propping his hands over the end of the hilt with a flick of red hair out of his eyes. "You're a fish out of water, here, aren't you, Bolearis?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Wishing for the sweet sound of Kevesi Levnises murdering down the field to comfort you?"

(Those mechanical hands do creak, nothing like Aegaeon's grace, but also nothing like an Equites.)

Now the look turns to a sharp sideeye. "Thought you were the one who wanted everyone to 'Leave You Alone', mate."

Gorg shrugs. "You're easy to fluster. Like an underdone flan."

"Hey, who're you calling an underdone flan?!"

But no matter how steamed to curdling Bolearis is, he can't help but be charmed by Gorg's bold chuckle.

(In fairness, he might more easily be compared to a fudgy brownie, but with low blows about Ethel reserved, this would have to do.)