Barrow's eyes seem to glaze over for a long moment, his own arms folding over his chest as he looks out into the dark.

"Coming here," he decides seriously, though the corner of his mouth twitches up slightly after the fact, as though he's just become aware of the dour face he's making. "...Riftwatch here, I mean. Making that choice. Could've kept wandering around finding mercenary work till I died or got court martialed."

Both are still very much on the table, of course, but at least in better company.