Hex took him at his word, even when what he saw was concerning. Rather than worry, he slipped off his sweats and peeled off his shirt. He still had the remnants of a bruise, mostly gone.

And a tattoo he'd gotten when he was very young. It was a common tattoo marking a nomad tribe to the north that had taken the docks. Rumours ran rampant about the shipyards, but none, no matter how awful, seemed untrue.

Between the tattoo and his accent, it painted a clear picture of the life he'd left behind.