And you must be Marco. [If Marco had any doubts, the accent he shared with his son would have easily dispelled them. He stands up to clap the kid on the shoulder in a warm greeting, which just further drove home how small Marco was compared to him.

He gives Marco a puzzled look at the 'sir', which has no real translation where and when he's from, so the closest the language program can do is 'my lord'.] No need for formalities.

Have a seat. [He motioned vaguely at the chair and the empty glass, once again sitting down and immediately bringing his own glass to his lips to finish it. He then poured them both full glasses.] It is good to meet you.

[The intense, piercing gaze was almost immediate, Ragnar studying the young man with a keen eye.] So, Marco, what do you do here? What sort of job?