"I should think not!" Sam replies, drawing himself up a little - more wary than insulted, but comforted enough by the fact that she's not attacked either of them yet to be, at least, a little insulted.
"I'm a Hobbit," he says, for what he thinks must be the seventieth time since he's come to Panem. "And while we've not the time for any proper explanation, I think it's enough to go on that Hobbits and Dwarves are different as apples and oranges, or beeches and oaks; and, beggin' your pardon, I must say you don't look like no Dwarf I've ever seen, either."
The apologetic bob of his head that accompanies this is no true apology, but nor is it a threat - he's more wary than anything, or at least, more wary than offended.
"Now-- are you acquainted with Mister Sartoris, here?" he asks. "On a first glance I'd say you aren't-- but in my own experience, those who mean to do one harm in the Arena just go ahead and do it, like, without waitin' around to get to know one. So I'll have an explanation, if you please."
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"I'm a Hobbit," he says, for what he thinks must be the seventieth time since he's come to Panem. "And while we've not the time for any proper explanation, I think it's enough to go on that Hobbits and Dwarves are different as apples and oranges, or beeches and oaks; and, beggin' your pardon, I must say you don't look like no Dwarf I've ever seen, either."
The apologetic bob of his head that accompanies this is no true apology, but nor is it a threat - he's more wary than anything, or at least, more wary than offended.
"Now-- are you acquainted with Mister Sartoris, here?" he asks. "On a first glance I'd say you aren't-- but in my own experience, those who mean to do one harm in the Arena just go ahead and do it, like, without waitin' around to get to know one. So I'll have an explanation, if you please."