"Aura's written to m'lady, I can get her to write to someone that's a friend of Asher's that came up for him and knows spirit stuff, or the most eligible shaman in the holds." He's simply stating a fact. He does indeed have eyes. Do you know he's been lifted and thrown by those arms and that chest? Jealous? (Don't be, he got tossed into goat pens but some people are into that, he wouldn't judge, he'd just ask to be paid to enable it.)

Squinting at it with the eye someone uses to appraise things, he nods approvingly. Because here's the thing: he can say shit to and about Korrin since he's know Korrin for-fucking-ever, and Korrin's known him just the same. He was one of Asher's mad dwarves, and they know mercenary life, the lack of niceties. Christine is a Nice Girl. So Asher said.

"Pretty thing. Did you make it? Only you don't have a crafter's hands since you're not missing chunks of them." He holds his out for inspection, with the bloody bit from the trap, the broken nails, the old cuts and scrapes, the odd scars to them. Dirty rough working hands, square enough to only belong to a dwarf. "And that...the blade just--" A 'pchoo' sound comes out because look he hasn't seen the spirit blade do the thing, what does he know?