[D is Byleth's kindred spirit because he, too, preferred bluntness in conversation. He struggled with subterfuge and double-speak, so having someone plainly say what they wanted and felt was his preference - even if it was to express something negative to him.

They were going to get along swimmingly.]

No.

[Short and sweet and to the point: no.]

I'm separated from my home- [Home being Jeralt, more than an actual location.] -and am forced to engage in a manufactured conflict between two factions I have no personal stake in. Though I'm a mercenary, that doesn't mean I enjoy being conscripted against my will.

['Crunch'. Another bite of the apple. Chew. Swallow.]

Not to say it's been all misery here. Unlike home, I'm not forced to engage in combat on a nearly daily basis, allowing me some moments of peace. But that's a mere, paltry silver lining of what is otherwise a...

[He paused and cocked his head slightly.]

Hm, what would Shez call it again? Ah, right: a shit-sandwich.