It wasn't as if Sidon couldn't guess what kind of stories they were likely to be; he just also, perhaps somewhat naively, figured there would still be a few good ones in there somewhere.
The idea that there might not be any after all was just...unfathomable.
"I'll concede to you that point," Sidon allowed, in regards to his own story, especially since he'd pretty much had that battle on his mind all the time and took every opportunity he had to tell that story. "So you'll have time. However long you need..."
Because there had to be a good one in there somewhere; he simply refused to accept otherwise.
"And as for the game, let me see..." And he settled in to consider it, carefully, looking to Vette thoughtfully although he knew he wasn't likely to find any clues there in her face. And he really was trying to think, too, very hard, and rather hating the fact that it wasn't easy for him to parse it out. He should be better at this. He should know more about her...
Well, he told himself, giving himself a little of the encouragement he was so insistent on giving others, he did know the things to make her happy. That was never a bad start...
...but not even knowing for sure how many sisters she had? He so desperately wanted to get this right; he'd hate to get it wrong, but he answered with confidence as if his mind wasn't shadowed with thick and heavy stormclouds of doubt. "I believe," he said, squaring his own shoulders now, "that the lie is in how many times you've been in jail. Numbers tend to be details that can be made the most arbitrary, and that number in particular seems rather," high, "particular. I imagine that, at one point, one finds themselves not bothering to keep track. I can tell you precisely how many giant octoroks I have conquered, but I'd be hard-pressed to be truthful on how many lizalfos have suffered my trident."
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The idea that there might not be any after all was just...unfathomable.
"I'll concede to you that point," Sidon allowed, in regards to his own story, especially since he'd pretty much had that battle on his mind all the time and took every opportunity he had to tell that story. "So you'll have time. However long you need..."
Because there had to be a good one in there somewhere; he simply refused to accept otherwise.
"And as for the game, let me see..." And he settled in to consider it, carefully, looking to Vette thoughtfully although he knew he wasn't likely to find any clues there in her face. And he really was trying to think, too, very hard, and rather hating the fact that it wasn't easy for him to parse it out. He should be better at this. He should know more about her...
Well, he told himself, giving himself a little of the encouragement he was so insistent on giving others, he did know the things to make her happy. That was never a bad start...
...but not even knowing for sure how many sisters she had? He so desperately wanted to get this right; he'd hate to get it wrong, but he answered with confidence as if his mind wasn't shadowed with thick and heavy stormclouds of doubt. "I believe," he said, squaring his own shoulders now, "that the lie is in how many times you've been in jail. Numbers tend to be details that can be made the most arbitrary, and that number in particular seems rather," high, "particular. I imagine that, at one point, one finds themselves not bothering to keep track. I can tell you precisely how many giant octoroks I have conquered, but I'd be hard-pressed to be truthful on how many lizalfos have suffered my trident."