Fuel

Garand found his eyes locked on this newest one as he turned away to direct the group once more. An aura of swirling emotions seemed to surround him. He was so angry, and that meant he was a walking fuel tank. Even the Jotun seemed more composed than him at this point. his head leaned to one side as he considered this. Perhaps he should stay close to types such as him, even from this distance in the Jotun's hand, he felt on the cusp of a gold mine of energy. To think of a person as a gold mine, it was cruel, yes, but in his state, Garand needed every ounce of aid he could get his hands on.