He might be a deer in form, but his eyes are the eyes of something much older and wiser.

[Diarmuid can remember the look in the White Hart's eyes during those seconds when he was driving his spear into the great animal's heart. There was no fear. There was no pain or anger. Instead, there was a deepness, an agelessness. A glimpse into something that never dies a true death.]

It's good to know he still has his sense of humor. I guess that is what makes him different from...his brother.