I hear them before I see them. Loud and scary, out of necessity. Now, they’re Edgers, they have to be rough around the edges. Tough life, theirs – not one I’d want. I like the cushy comforts and the safety of the Inlands; we’d have neither if it wasn’t for them, keeping the enemy out.

SoI feel bad about not wanting Edgers in my eatery. But they’ve terrible table manners. A big bunch of them will drive potential patrons away. They like to fight among themselves, and they’re not afraid of throwing cutlery.

I prefer to admire their roughness from afar.