[In the end, Sigr knew where it will all lead. It could lead no where else, this path they were walking, for Emet-Selch said it himself - he was tempered by a Primal, and no matter how incredible the Primal, or the stories that came with them, it meant the tempered would act in the Primal's favor and it would lead to them needing to be put down. It was all a game of when. Which only made him wonder, all over again, what it meant about him. Him and Hydaelyn and just what it meant to be tempered. Could anyone...? With a brief shake of his head, dismissing the thoughts, Sigr focused on the now. The very strange now that felt removed from time, as if in this small forgotten place in the world the rest of the world vanished until they stepped out to see it once again and solidify it into reality. He debated those words. A secret? Surely a man who lived so long had secrets layered on secrets. Any one of them would be fascinating or foolish. So, why not? Besides, he was enjoying being pet. He even allowed his thumb to move in slow circles. A Hrothgar always need watch his claws, but this was not a moment of fighting, anyway. Not that he didn't realize it could turn into such, should something happen.] I suppose such an arrangement could be acceptable. [His head tilted, just enough to show the brightness in the slightly mis-matched eyes. One blue, one green, on either side of that minty fur-marking.] A secret for a secret. [His fingers on Emet-Selch's knee tighten, like a silent acceptance of the proposal.] Fish oil. I have it distilled from the fish I catch. [And oh does he love to fish-] The alchemists get half of the batch and I get the other. Small glass of it in the morning every other day.