At 7'1", even out of armor Spartan Paul DeMarco makes an imposing figure. It's handy when he's facing down snarling Elites, but out on the peaceful castle ground he tries to dial it back a notch. His lope is easy, hands in his pockets, and a pleasant smile on his face.

Of course, the smile was mostly because hello pretty lady.

"So who's the lucky bastard this time?" He motions to the duck with a nudge of his shoe, assuming it's a resident on a loss since he caught her talking to it.