Ulrik's greeting of him was as cheery as one could expect, but it gave Mauja a sense of being welcome all the same - recognized, familiarity, though one could hardly call the engineer an emotional beast. But, in this case, it meant that everything was as it ought to be. The bronze eyes held nothing of the dark, flashing suspicions they'd held at the meeting Ulrik had called, and it gave the King a sort of satisfaction to know that since then, he'd mostly trodden down the right paths. It didn't come as a surprise that the sand beast wanted to join the Edge - better that, than simply wanting to be a tourist and see the lands for himself... like some others. It was not fine to just waltz into his home and pretend you owned the place. It was, after bloody fucking all, his home. Where he and his herd lived - not a freaking circus! Ocean-lovers, Ulrik said, and Mauja grunted something unintelligible in response. He liked the ocean, it was soothing for the sun-warm skin to swim in, but he preferred it frozen over, bitter winds pushing snow around and cold, dark skies. If he came from an ocean, did he come from a warm one, or from an ice sea?

Ulrik grumbled more, and Mauja's sharp eyes lingered on the stranger's face, drinking in his appearance. At being called soft, it seemed like something passed through him - it was too well curbed to show, but his eyes seemed to grow more guarded. Mauja's own eyes narrowed slightly as he listened to the response about these 'Tides', whom he knew not much at all of. d'Artagnan and Descaro had mentioned something about it such a place, but only in passing. "Your name?" he asked, not unkindly. It would be useful to know the name of his newest herd member. And then, he tilted his head slightly to the side. If Ulrik thought him soft but not lost, he could still be saved - salvaged. "I think we can put some steel in his spine," he replied in the same hushed voice, eyes still never leaving the sand stranger, still watching with their sharp intensity. If what he had seen earlier was a hint of anger, he wondered if this would provoke another sign of it - or perhaps even an outburst, or the reason for it. "Don't you think so?" Something amused played in his gaze, as if the entire world was just a game - as if he was never serious. Perhaps he wouldn't suffer from a dose of sincerity and caution. Of course they could put steel in his spine. Ulrik was the perfect mentor, rough and rugged as he was, and if it didn't work in the metaphorical sense... Well, Ulrik would probably put literal steel in someone's spine. Expectantly he watched the stranger, another string of words slipping from his pale muzzle.

"Or is the steel already there, merely bundled up to keep it from rattling around?"

Do you play the game as I do?