Sometimes ignoring a man like Asher is a smart plan: make eye contact and he'll pay attention, look at him too long and he'll have a hand on his weapons, but let your eyes slide past him - rare given the size of him and the volume - and honestly he'll let you do your thing. Talk to his dog though and his face breaks into the kind of soppy grin strangers don't think him capable of but man and dog, a more honest love will never be found. And honestly, he's just as quick to crouch down to a less imposing height with a hand outstretched for the dog behind the woman saying hi to his, patiently waiting to see if it'll come over to him.

Asher never rushes a dog, you don't do that when you've pulled a dog out a fighting pit and bonded with it.

"If you're willing to help," unlike some bastards he could name, "then you can grab a share of whatever you please, I can vouch for all of it seeing as it's come from my family. All for the Inquisition, courtesy of the Hardie Holdings."

Dad'd probably want him to do some namedropping.

"Who's your friend back there, doesn't look quite like what I'm used to with old Bronson here."