The laughter was off-putting in a strange way. It did not seem like something the Preston of old could easily get used to.
"I don't believe in peace," he said finally as he tore his gaze away from Errol's and rose from the lumpy seat, regaining a posture that he was much more comfortable with. They've had wars, and when they weren't warring, most of them were rendered half-dead with a fraction of the population preparing for different sorts of wars.
"I've dosed myself with enough peace to last the rest of my life." Bad or otherwise, they were different people - it had been hard to see; under the same uniform, serving the same ruler, but he could see it now - and they had little in common beyond too many years of mindless training.
"You shouldn't walk around unarmed." Yes, there was a nicer way to say it, but an old... acquaintance, should know better than to expect anything sugarcoated from a boy like Preston.