It ain't right! I killed the varmint that pretty-boy Trent was stuffing his face with, and he's still got the stones to laugh at me just because I stumbled over my words again. So what if I can't talk like Imamu? What's Trent done, earn some trophies playing pigskin back home? I've been keeping us alive!
Still shouldn't have made a fuss over it. Boris had to hold me back or else I'd have...and now? Trent's avoiding me, Imamu's scolding me and Emilia's too scared to even look at me.
It's like my second cousin, twice removed, Ernest, always said: if you lose your temper, you'd best make sure you find it, because tempers are mighty expensive.