The Enchanter realises not everyone is respectful of the Herald's status— or even believe in it at all. They have right to their beliefs, he supposes, but he is glad that Daithi's words seem to insinuate he and Sera have at least met an understanding. "I imagine we'll get along well enough," he says, as to be reassuring.
"Of course." Daithi pauses, then, chuckling for another time. "Now that I think about it: most of them, the others, are ... particular." More than one might expect of any single person.
"They mean well," he adds, his own means of reassurance. "Doubt you won't get along."
Particular. Brigham understands such sentiment, perhaps better than Daithi would expect. Being confined to a single (albeit large) building for most of his life with other people that have experienced the same, though from vastly different view points... yes, the Enchanter understands 'particular'. At least, he thinks so. The other companions all seemed surprisingly different from one another, what little he'd gotten to know of them.
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"They mean well," he adds, his own means of reassurance. "Doubt you won't get along."
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"I'm sure," he replies warmly.