His expression of distaste speaks volumes. Of all the things that can be said of southern customs in comparison to the north, he can think of no sanctioned instances where people are tossed to animals to be torn to bits. He shakes his head to rid himself of the mental image.

"What's so interesting about death?" It's not phrased in the most diplomatic way, but his interest is sincere enough. To him death is an ugly, sometimes necessary business. He has seen plenty die at the end of his sword or bashed by his shield. He has witnessed others go in far more horrific or ignominious ways. The thought of studying it is foreign, to say the least.

He glances over his shoulder at the dark rectangle of window. It's not a bad idea, sleep, but it will also mean the end to a conversation he is finding more interesting than he expected. "Perhaps in a bit," he says.