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Torgal barks in compliance and walks beside Jill as she starts off in the direction of the nearest coffee shop, hands in her pockets. She assumes Clive will follow, and she doesn't seem to have anything she'd like to talk about.

Jill's never been very chatty, but with him, she never had a problem finding something to say, and the silences never felt so heavy.

Clive does follow, a step behind, periodically glancing at the side of her head. He wonders if he looked hard and long enough, he could read her mind, and figure out exactly what to say. She doesn't seem to want any of it.

He says, anyway: "Do you have any other plans for today?"

At least he's not bringing up the ball. Jill keeps her eyes ahead.

"Yes." So there will be no time to linger. She's going to get her coffee, let him say goodbye to Torgal one more time, and go. "I was going to see if Dion was busy."

It's the truth. Dion has proven himself a warmhearted friend, and so Jill tries not to show up to hang about only when she's in a poor mood.

But her mood is still up in the air as of right now.

"Oh," he says. It is as carefully neutral as an oh can be. He says: "How has he been lately?"

Arms falling off and knuckles stinging, he hopes.

"I'd say quite well," she says, and leaves it at that. Honestly, she does think he's happier now than he was when she first found him here.

Jill didn't think that among the three of them, Clive would be the odd man out, but there's nothing to be done about it.

There's a silence where she would ask something in return, to keep the conversation flowing, but there's nothing she wants to know.

Agonizing. He's loathe to keep asking about Dion but she's giving him nothing, and it's so isolating he feels he might as well be invisible.

"Good," he says, and he leaves it at that.

It's going to be a long walk.

He's about as invisible as a campfire in the dead of night, but she has to keep herself contained. She doesn't want to be cruel. She doesn't want to be too emotional. She doesn't know how to be a version of herself around him that he can tolerate.

"He's happy, at least."

She nods to Torgal.

At least someone is. He exhales, long and slow, as quietly as possible.

"All he needs is some gazelle to prowl after and he'd be the most content creature imaginable," he remarks.

"Or monsters in the night," she supplies. All the more reason time with Clive makes the most sense.

"Not quite as enjoyable as hunting for pleasure, but it satisfies him too," he says.

And when Clive is this tired, a wolf is one more thing to keep track of on the battlefield.

"He must wonder when we're going back home," she says quietly. She wonders that, too.

"How do you tell an animal it could be waiting for upwards of a century?"

He quickens his pace a little, just to fall closer into step with her.

Jill does glance his way then, taking a breath and letting it out slowly as she looks back ahead.

"I myself can't even fathom it."

Not like this. Before, when she thought they were all right... it was easier to stomach.

It's a long time. Clive looks at her sidelong, even after she's turned their eyes ahead of them again. The regal slope of her nose. The way her grey hair falls around her face, the exposed shell of her ear.

"It's a whole other lifetime. Maybe two or three, for most people."

Jill sighs again, watching as Torgal trots ahead to sniff at a crack in the sidewalk.

"Look what thirty years has done to us both. I can't imagine even more."

They're in shambles, the both of them.

"At least here no one is marched off to war, and people live comfortably. We can suffer with infinite hot water."

Some consolation.

She doesn't care for the hot baths or showers when he's not there to share them with her. The comment is right on the tip of her tongue, but she bites it back.

So, instead, she falls silent again.

Another misstep, but he's not sure how. He wonders if he ever will.

He just steps ahead to get the door to the coffee shop for her.

"Stay, Torgal."

Surprisingly, the huge wolf only gets the occasional curious glance. He stands by a tiny dog bowl filled with water, and laps it up in moments. Sorry, other dogs in the city. Someone will refill it when they notice.

Jill steps inside and orders a coffee--hot, with a shot of espresso--and only looks to Clive so he can order and pay.

He's looming figure in the background while she orders, and his own order is brief and minimalist. He pays the same way, managing their affairs with as little contact as possible. That isn't new for them, though, albeit in a whole new way.

"Odd," he murmurs, as they wait for drinks. "Normally I'd have to wait outside."

Playing slave and mistress is the only other time they've been so cold in public, after all.

She almost wishes he would. Jill just loosely crosses her arms around herself, watching the baristas work behind the counter.

"I imagine that would be easier for you," she says, a soft click of her tongue after.

He just gives a noncommittal hum of acknowledgement under his breath, pondering if he should have just told the barista his name was Wyvern, pondering if it's better to frustrate her and get a reaction than exist in her silence. No, she doesn't deserve that. Book closed.

He takes both their drinks from the counter when they're served, and passes hers over.

"Thank you for the coffee," she says, because she does still have her manners. "I should be on my way."

She can feel the simmering tension in her bones. There's little they can speak about without making her mood divebomb. She can't see that changing.

“Alright,” he says, not sure if he should be relieved or disappointed. He doesn’t have much time to ponder — a man abruptly shoves by them, and Clive steps towards Jill to both avoid him and protect her, his free hand drifting to the small of her back.

Years of simply being side by side in any number of scenarios has her instinctively stepping into him, coffee held so that she doesn't tip it on anyone.

"Pardon you," Jill mumbles at the man's back as he leaves the shop, too tired to make a fuss. And too tired to immediately realize Clive's hand is warm on her back, even though her clothing, and she blinks up at him before stepping away.

Maybe they just don't draw attention to that. That would be the merciful thing to do.

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rosarianoath - 2023-12-21 04:25 (UTC) - Expand