Char's keen and cunning predator senses must not have been working that day, because he failed to smell the incoming sweetness of saptown. "Hey, it was cool for a pitchforky-lookin' thing," he clarified with a laugh of his own.

He could appreciate the sentiment of knowing your roots, though; he couldn't say his own logic behind the tattoo he wanted was all that dissimilar, even if his case was a lot more broad than Bulba's. "So we talkin' about Green, or is this, like... the Garden with a capital G kinda roots?"