I also intend to do some blathering, a little nattering, and the occasional gibber. But not too much, lest I overdo a good thing.
Passionate, with an intense, smoldering resolve. A leashed anger that he used, because he had DOMINATED it. And a certain tempting arrogance. Not the haughty pride of a highlord. Instead, the secure, stable sense of determination that whispered that no matter who you were--or what you did--you could not hurt him. Could not change him. He was. Like the wind and rocks were.
Thankfully not Roshar