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[noburden]

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[rosarianoath]

"Good to know," he says.

Awkward. This is awkward. He pops a piece of pineapple in his mouth and the sting is unexpected but sweet.

"No hunting for you, then, hm?"

[noburden]

Terribly awkward. But sitting alone in the living room, pretending he was not right in her space? Way more awkward.

"Only for Torgal's sake," she says, and the wolf's ears twitch at mention of his name, though his eyes remain closed. "I think he misses all those days out on the road."

[rosarianoath]

"Do you?" he asks.

[noburden]

She looks at him. She should change the subject. Talking about their past together has done nothing for them.

But she answers anyway, honestly.

"I do." She took them for granted. "Do you?"

[rosarianoath]

Talking about their past is the cornerstone of their relationship. The past, he realizes, is most of what they ever had. He sighs, earnest and fond, missing the people they were profoundly.

"All the time."

[noburden]

"What do you miss most?" She asks, knowing she shouldn't. They're already doing a lot of things they shouldn't.

[rosarianoath]

"About being on the road?" he repeats, unwilling to let it be confused for anything else. "Camping at night. Nothing but stars above us, time standing still."

[noburden]

That does manage to coax the tiniest of smiles from Jill.

"That was my answer, too. I was always relieved when we were too far out from an inn. We wouldn't have to put on an act just to have a roof over our heads. I much preferred the moon and stars."

Everything felt simple.

[rosarianoath]

She'd never liked playing those roles, but he'd loved calling her his lady. Being her slave had been the only way he'd felt permitted to, especially in the long years they'd been too shamed to be honest with each other.

Now, there's so much honesty everything is broken.

"It was always beautiful, whether we were sleeping in the sand, or in long grasses, or in the mountains..."

[noburden]

She nods.

"The only way those years could have been better is if Joshua had been with us," she says.

[rosarianoath]

Nostalgia comes crashing down. Clive just nods.

"In another lifetime... he would have been."

[noburden]

Jill's quiet for a long moment. She misses him so intensely for a moment her ribs ache, and she has to force a deep breath to lessen the discomfort.

"He would have had something to say about that time you dropped me in the mud."

The rain had caught them off guard, turning the roads to mud. They were both struggling to keep their footing. Still, it's a good memory, and on a better day it would have made her laugh aloud. Now, it's bittersweet, but it allows her to look at him with the faintest hint of amusement.

[rosarianoath]

"He would have never let me forget it," he replies, looking at the ease to her face and not feeling it in himself. It's difficult to talk about Joshua in the theoretical, grafting happy times onto his absence. He sets aside his plate absently. "I've never forgotten it."

[noburden]

"You'd never dropped me before and never did after," she says, having so many memories of grabbing onto him for balance when playing as children or later, as adults, during battle or rescue. "So I suppose you haven't."

[rosarianoath]

"I blame the mud," he says. "It was the lapse in my consistency."

He's glad she doesn't hate him, and talking like this feels good, but it feels dangerous. He left her, he reminds her. What business does he have wanting her now, remembering the stolen moment that incident led to?

Gently: "I must be keeping you from your day. I should bathe."

[noburden]

He's right. Jill nods and stands, collecting his plate and bowl. The sooner he goes to have his bath, the sooner she can change out of this bloodied nightgown.

"Of course. You know where the tub is," she tells him, and hurries to the kitchen where she can busy herself at the sink. The sound of the water is loud--a good excuse to no longer speak.

[rosarianoath]

He just gives a sound of acknowledgement, waiting for her to go before he gets to his feet. His head feels fuzzy as soon as he's vertical, but it's manageable, and pads off to the bathroom.

He never bothered closing the bathroom door when he lived here, just as he bathed in the middle of the solar at the Hideaway, and it's no different now as he runs the tap. He leans against the sink's countertop as he finishes tackling his trousers, left loosened from the night before. He shucks them off and drapes them over the countertop, and then waits, fully nude, for the tub to finish filling.

[noburden]

Likewise, she never closed the door while she bathed. She always hoped he'd come join her, or at the very least keep her company with conversation. And the damn urge is there now, to go be with him, and Jill scrubs her face with the kitchen towel after she dries her hands.

Hours around the man and she's already willing to forgive what she should not.

She pointedly does not look towards the bathroom as she goes to the bedroom to change into a pair of jeans and a thick sweater. She's very glad to be out of anything stained with Clive's blood, and she returns to the living room to pull on thick socks, eyes downcast.

She wonders how he'd feel to know she slept with another man on this very couch.

SAD, THANKS

[rosarianoath]

When she moves around the apartment, he glances her way surreptitiously, and then back to the tub when she doesn't pay him any mind. It's fine. He'll be out of her hair before long.

By time the water fills the tub halfway and steams from how how it is, it's good enough for him, and he steps into the water.

[noburden]

Torgal wakes from his sleep, stretching out with a long yawn and then coming over to rub up against Jill's legs. The wolf is clearly content, yellow eyes bright as Jill scratches his ears. The people that are here are where they should be. The nonsense is over.

"Good boy," Jill tells him, already knowing it will be another battle when they part ways. At least one of them will get another good night's rest, until the next exchange.

[rosarianoath]

Sank to his chest in the deep tub, the water threatening to go right over the edge from displacement, Clive closes his eyes –– at least until he hears Torgal moving around, and that has him watching Jill again, or at least the three-inch-wide window he can see of her, angled through the door. Her pretty wrist, her fingers moving around Torgal's ears.

He has to figure out how to salvage this.

[noburden]

Jill does get up then, crossing back over to the dining table to gather up Clive's things. His shirt reeks, but there's nothing to be done for it. No clothing of his remains here--there's no reason for it. So he'll have to change back into bloodied, soiled clothing, but she can at least pick his things up off the floor so he doesn't pass out leaning down to grab them.

She holds onto his shirt for a moment longer than necessary, clutching it to her chest. It's almost like embracing him, a thing she refuses to do in the light of day. She misses when she'd do it freely, here--but now she wonders if it sent dread to his belly every time she threw her arms around his waist.

NO.............. that's so sad............

[rosarianoath]

He's soaked and scrubbed in no time, leaving the water tinged with... god knows what. By time he's out, dripping water across the floor and dabbing himself off with her towel, he's still thinking. There are so many dead ends. So many twists and turns with no way to know which way to go. Worse than wandering around fucking Lostwing.

He needs to go. He need his clothes.

He wanders to the door, towel held in front of his junk.

"Do you have my––" He pauses. Should he pretend he didn't see?

needs to bottle his sweat

[noburden]

Jill jumps and lowers his shirt. Did he see? He saw. Why else would he pause? Maybe he'll do her a kindness and not ask. Her eyes are wide as she's torn between apologizing for being caught red handed, clinging to his damn shirt, and entirely stunned to see him without trousers. She knows what's behind that towel, of course.

"I--um. Here, I was just picking your things up off the floor," she says, and hastily grabs his vest so she can avert her eyes while walking over to thrust out both shirt and vest. She hopes he can keep that towel up with one hand.

Even if her hair covers half her face, the pink on her cheeks can't be hidden.

basement plan now has different connotations

[rosarianoath]

He watches her, brows knit, concerned for her.

"Of course," he says, apologetic, no judgement in his voice. But he knows something now, and though he's hesitant to make too much of it, he won't forget this easily. He takes the shirt and vest, his hand still maintaining some level of modesty. "Thank you. I'll... change and be on my way."

He slinks off to do just that.