He really is all bark. Like, I could complain that my arm was useless and that I wanted a new one, and Tate would lecture me about being a spoiled arm hog and that plenty of people live their lives with no arms at all and then somehow manage to turn it into a story about him hiding under his bed for three days when the human and goblin crowns burnt Cork city to the ground and it would all just make me feel terrible, but then a day later there would be a box on my doorstep with perfectly washed and sanitized arm and no note. And then next time I would see him, he would have a bloody stump
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Ainsley is my favorite 😍
