So here were his choices, both served up on nicely crafted golden platters with holders of welcoming smiles and delights spewing from their trays like a never ending waterfall from heaven. With all of the pros, it was hard to designate which offer held the most cons. The Foothills seemed the most promising, but the Throat was a place where he'd feel the most comfortable. This was such an incredibly huge deal, Panzram was choosing his place of residency here in Helovia. This choice alone could very well make or break his future here. "I'm sorry, but I must beg your pardon on the time I'm spending while making this decision." The dark stallion subconsciously began to shuffle his golden hooves about in the powdery  snow below, transforming the beautiful ivory substance into something muddy and ugly. "I trust that I'm not keeping you two gentlemen from anything important..." It was hard to swallow down growing anxiety once the seed had been planted, especially if it's expanding within a very empty stomach. That's just who was now, a worrier. 

He didn't wish to keep his acquaintances waiting for far too long, definitely not in this chilly weather when there was a warm shelter back home for the both of them... and maybe even himself. Taking in a deep breath, Panzram closed his big, bright eyes to imagine himself in either environment. The Foothills, the Throat. One a place of flourishing vegetation, the other pretty much explanatory considering it's naming. Amazingly, it felt as if the decision had already been made for him according to past events. Which didn't really seem at all that fair to Hector. He seemed like he was a very good fellow, and Panzram just hated to have to decline his invitation on such inconvenient terms. "Where I once lived is quite the same as what you've described as Dragons Throat, Hector. It saddened me to say this, but for that very reason I must decline your offer." After casting out a sigh of negativity from big, ebony  lips, Panzram gave the hybrid a respectful dip of his head. "I hope that there will be no hard feelings between us, it's just I don't think I'd be able to go a single day without remembering a gruesome scene while upon the field of combat. I've come here to escape those memories, not to relive them." With ears twisting back in shame of the weakness that has been just been told of himself, the stallion slowly moved his golden eyes about till they found the black and white paint, Apollo, from behind narrowed lids. 

Panzram, back then, was known as a good man for the things that he was capable of doing in war, and even though he would be content with what ever ranking was giving to him in the Grey, he wanted to be a great man. It was easier to rise up in battle, but now everything would be very different (he was different), he'd have to find a new way of being noticed...  of being heard. "Whenever your ready." Panzram gave first Apollo then Hector a friendly smile. "I give you my best wishes on your way to the Throat, travel safely my friend." With any luck, the Foothills wouldn't be very far from here, hopefully they'd reach their destination while the sun still cast its light upon the territory and Panzram could meet a few members of the Grey while it was still daytime... and then maybe get some rest. At the very thought of rest, a new weight came crashing down on his shoulders, exhaustion was beginning to catch up with him. He could feel it creeping up his every limb, claiming them then leaving them with nothing but aches and pains in it's terrible wake. Maybe a good rest first, then a visit with his new family. Hmmm, family, that sounds nice.