[ For Amos to step in and accept his offered hand, Drizzt's handshake is a deft, firm thing; his fingers are calloused and worn, pale scars across his knuckles and forearms as he grips and shakes and relinquishes his hold just as quickly. As if unwilling to force the man into contact with him for longer than he's comfortable with. He listens, attentive — the faint shift of point ears in Amos's direction a dead giveaway that he is paying mind to what he says. It doesn't satisfy, but it is good to hear the voice of someone who lives here. ]

I will have to see for myself, I feel. I do not mean to assail Highstorm's structure, it is just —

[ He's rarely been able to trust women in positions of power. The Seven Sisters aside, the dark power of Lady Yima is one he instinctively questions. What Amos tells him speaks of someone who has come to trust in her, though; which means Drizzt's opinion and sharp mistrust is softened, but only in favor of ensuring Amos is not being harmed by anyone in a position of power. He thinks the same of those who dwell in Springstar. ]

I have also lived under cruelty, and the neglectfulness of leadership. I would not want to observe the spread of abuse, because those a ruler thought would police themselves fairly took her good will and abused it, in turn.