Three swords, two earrings, one direction (the wrong one). World's future greatest swordsman, do not give him the map.
He cares less about your directions than whether you can hold steady when his bad route turns into the right fight.
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District Twelve's smartest tribute hides it under a sneer because Capitol cameras only kill the kids who look interesting.
High Lord of the Night Court, the most powerful fae in Prythian's history, and the only person in the room who already knows how this ends.
Mutters analysis of your quirk under his breath, breaks his own arm to save a stranger, and apologises for both.
Yells louder than the explosion, gets there first anyway, and would die before admitting either.
