I️ don't, but maybe then again I️ DO (ARRANGE ME UP, LAND)

“Decency just weighs too much when you’re drunk.”

He smirks over at her quickly before returning to his bottle, shrugging.

“It’s pretty much a safety hazard.”

He watches her continue to drink without much pause between shots.

“Seems like something you might be familiar with? Or did your dragon just take yours for dessert before you even got here?”

He’s visually enjoying the verbal jest maybe more than he should, but then again when does he get the chance to sit back and be annoying and snarky to his hearts content? He’d tried it at a recent ambassadors dinner and his father had nearly cut him out of the line of succession. At least he had the only child thing going for him.

“And you don’t look like you’re from around here, so I’ll do you s favor and tell you you’re going to want to chase that with something less whiskey-ish if you’re going to be extending your dragon killing tour tomorrow. Heroes and hangovers don’t mix well.”

"Mercenaries aren't heroes, so watch your tongue. I take offense to you thinking I'm some starry-eyed adventurer seeking to make the world a better place."

She rolls her eyes but does pause herself after the third glass, at least for a moment, waving her hand to the bartender to tell him no more when he's about to reach for the empty glass again, shotting a quick smile at him as a thanks before he turns to get to work with other people.

"That's gross and flat and honestly such boring character development. I personally think I'm at least a level above that, thank you. At least above the local town drunk."

In a spur of the moment, she actually flips him off with that comment, but her expression and tone stays playful, not upset over his observation. People here can think whatever they want, jump to whatever conclusion or deluded story they write in their minds, about her, she doesn't plan to stay long enough for that to really impact or bother her.

Honestly, these remarks are fun and enjoyable. She didn't even get this in the army where you would think she'd get it and more, but there's something to be said of hiding a royal identity. Normal human life isn't quite so bad.

"Then again, you don't look like you're from here either. You're definitely from Natania but you're not from this town. Some sort of traveling vendor then? Lowest of the low."

“Oh, the lowest. The bottom of the barrel.”

His lopsided grin only increases and he somehow even manages to still smile around the mouth of the rum bottle.

“Last time I️ checked mercenaries didn’t go out slaying dragon for free, either.”

He chuckles as she flips him off, raising his liquor bottle to her in a makeshift cheers.

“And don’t worry, I’m just passing through. I️ won’t be here long.”

There’s a strange, far off look in his eyes that’s hard to read, but he masks it with more alcohol and exhales with the bite.

“But what about you, mercenary? Who’s the highest bidder today? After you’re finished playing with your dragons, that is.”

"Well, I guess you could say I'm a bit of a free agent right now looking for work, but I may be hiring myself out."

She shrugs like it's perfectly normal to be out of work like she is but she's trying to keep it casual and now seem to upset that she has nothing to do and no clue where to go.

"Need to take time to make it to the next country over. Not Atron to the West but Karnin to the East. Heard there's some steady work there so I may just have to toughen up and be workless for a bit until I get there."

Her blue eyes snap to him, trying to figure out his actual job again, the salesperson bit just being a joke because he certainly doesn't look like he dresses to walk door-to-door or set up shop in a market. He actually looks like that's the last thing he wants to be doing at any given moment, so what's his career then?

Maybe he really is an adventurer. If so, that could be pretty useful.

"Here's hoping the next client it's looking for me to dance with a dragon. Not ready to commit to a new set of armor just yet. Still in mourning and all."

"Karnin?"

He scoffs as he finishes off his bottle and practically throws it at the bartender once he's caught his attention.

"Someone is somewhere having a good laugh at your expense right now because ever since that dam got put in to the north, hardly anyone in Karnin has two pennies to rub together. Which to be perfectly frank was most likely the point. But that's just what I️ hear, anyway."

He tries to cover this information with a sip from a new bottle of rum, because he realizes a little too late that normal people in this town don't just walk around knowing the economic states of other nations. A side effect from too much eavesdropping on political summits.

"I'm a tracker. I️ get around."

He adds, trying to normalize himself and his statements, looking deeply into the bottle to avoid having to look at her. He's starting to wonder why he spoke to her in the first place when all he needed to do was make the quickest path to the border and then off to the ocean. He always complicates things for himself.

"I️ don't know, maybe the beavers are hiring mercenaries now. That's probably the best you'll get. Hope you're one for animal rights. I️ mean, clearly not reptilian ones, but."

He raises an eyebrow at her, maintaining his playfully judgmental air.

"Well, see, that's just the thing. With the economic chaos in Karnin, nobility is looking to hire people out to protect their wealth just as much as the common people are banding together to put together what money they have to hire someone to overthrow whatever lord has got their thumb on them. You wouldn't think there'd be work but it's actually a hot spot for mercenaries and-"

She pauses mid-sentence, now realizing how much she was rambling on about politics and other things most people probably don't care for. It's not even like she finds the topic specifically all that interesting herself, but any new knowledge to learn is a sudden passion until she's got it down and the next subject comes along.

The state of Karnin was a topic from a month or so back so it's still pretty relevant in her mind, luckily.

"Sorry. Just really passionate about what I do... Which is basically anything, I guess."

There's a short laugh, both at her having to cover all of her knowledge up but also at his animal rights comment. Though, now that he's mentioned his own profession, she raises her own eyebrow.

Hadn't Dakara said that's the type of person she needs to make it out of here? Seems like some stupid luck that a tracker of all people is who randomly decided to walk up, ignore personal space, and start a conversation.

"So, a tracker, huh? Well, obviously sounds like you've been to Karnin yourself. Know the best way to go about getting there from here?"

"Well I️ wish you the best of luck throwing your hat in the ring ON either side of that crazed and ultimately doomed conflict."

Shand chuckles to himself, thinking that if that economic downturn isn't a target for more of his father's whole-country takeovers and absorptionS, he doesn't know what is. He shouldn't care if she gets caught on the wrong side of that, but something about the thought makes him chew on the inside of his mouth.

"I️ know my way on through to the coast well enough."

He sips again on the liquor, ears pricking at a momentary ruckus in the corner involving some shattered glass, but letting it go when it proves to not be a threat.

"The king's highway is too dangerous to be traveling alone, mercenary or not, and the wood way is overgrown. A little windy. You could follow the river if you wanted, but that way's more trouble than its worth. Could take you an extra week. And that's just if you don't get ambushed by all the angry dragons first."

His lips twitch in an ornery smile as he finishes off his second bottle and holds steady at that, refusing the third one that the bartender offers.

He looks her up and down, and although she seems to know what she's about and carries herself confidently, he can't imagine someone of her stature traveling alone in a land she obviously can't be from. Mercenary or not.

"What's bringing you through this way anyway?"

The whole sizing her up doesn't go unnoticed and she huffs in a mock pout towards him, snapping her fingers to get his attention.

"Eyes up here, tracker."

She snickers but she decides to let it go for the most part. No, she doesn't look like a soldier, or mercenary in this case, but she can definitely hold her own and is confident enough in that ability that she doesn't even feel the need to prove it to him. Honestly, she dares someone or something to cross her, let them underestimate her, it'll be at the cost of their heads. She is a trained killer, Atorn's ultimate weapon.

Now that she thinks on that topic, she can't fathom why she was kept from the fight with Natania. Changing the tide of battle like that is what she was born to do. Also, does King Dolan know this about her and is that one of the main reasons he decided to absorb Atron before anyone else first? It would certainly bring the other neighboring kingdoms down quickly, but there's no way anyone should know about her other than Trita and her parents.

Those are all thoughts for a later time, so she pushes them aside.

"Just on the run, really. Being a mercenary and all doesn't make me friends with a lot of people so I'm trying to run before they take me to the castle dungeon itself and lock me up for good. Or worse."

It's only funny to her because, in a way, it's true. Even the "or worse" fits in with her real-life narrative, and it's sad she doesn't have to stretch the truth too much to come up with a story.

He lets out a harsh laugh, about to tell her what a joke the dungeon is, that nobody ever makes it to the dungeon, but that falls under the category of information he shouldn't have if he's who he claims to be, so he shuts up quickly.

And in any case, it's only half true. The castle dungeon is more for show now that anything, with all the real prisoners kept in the tower where it's more showy. Shand remembers the dungeons as a place hidden away, somewhere away from prying eyes, one of the only places sturdy enough to hold up under erratic lightning bolts and jolts of electric energy from a little boy who couldn't control them.

He wasn't sure if he'd been more scared of himself or his surroundings when he'd realized his powers and his father had insisted he be kept away from sight. But then again, the motivation to get out of that place had sure had sped up his learning curve when it came to keeping his abilities leashed.

Still, he knows it's not a common mercenary that picks a fight that testy with his father, with the royal family, that it would land them in a spot like that. The idea narrows his eyes a little, and he knows she's not telling him the whole truth, that she's more than who she says she is, but he'll let it go. His only concern is getting across the border.

"My condolences if you've gotten on the king's bad side. I️ hear that's a hellish place to be."

He thinks twice about flagging the barkeep down that third bottle, but decides against it. He'd warned her against heroes and hangovers, but generally any situation with a hangover is one he wants to avoid currently.

He's starting to feel heavy on his feet, leaning there against the bar, and the idea of a night of rest appeals to him, but he's not sure he can spare the time, or take the chance of slowing down.

Sure, they don't recognize him in Fenner, but that doesn't stop out of towners from coming in and recognizing him. So the quicker he's gone, the better.

"Well, mercenary. Best wishes with all your dragon slaying and I️ hope the beavers take kindly to you also. Watch yourself out there."

He nods to her like it's the best proper goodbye he knows how to give and turns away from the bar back towards the table he'd occupied, mind already set on gathering his things and trying to make the most of the nighttime cover along the forest trails.

As quickly as he came, he's walking away again, leaving her with her thoughts on him.

He seems like a decent enough man with a hidden past he's not willing to divulge that enjoys a bit too much of alcohol. Seems like they have some things in common.

Dakara said she needed a tracker to help her out and he's the first one she's seen and, though she's not sure why she just couldn't find her way on her own and the servant woman felt a need to suggest this, there must be something she doesn't know.

"Hey."

She follows him before he has a chance to leave the building, keeping on her feet pretty well considering all the alcohol she had in such a short time, finally walking like a normal human being than a well-trained soldier and dignitary.

"Listen, A... Friend of mine suggested I find a tracker, specifically here in Hobgoblin, to take me where I need to go. You're the first one I've seen and while it's stupid to trust the first applicant you come across, I'm a little more than desperate."

He looks like he's about to debate this with her but she doesn't really have time, so she holds up her hand to quiet him before he can speak.

"I'm willing to pay. Half up front, half once you get me to the Karnin boarder. And, let's be honest here, half of what I'm willing to pay is more than most people make in a week."

She keeps her voice low as she talks about the money aspect of all of this, looking around to make sure no one can hear her. That, at least, was a perk of running away from a royal family: She can't say she isn't a little more than well-off monetarily for a long while. But that's all the more reason to stay quiet.

"So, if you don't want the job, that's fine. The average honest man doesn't like the idea of working with a mercenary, but you seem less than average and honest so I was willing to take my chances and at least ask."

He's surprised that she's followed him, and all the talk of money that follows surprises him even more. While he's got a backpack full of gems and gold, it's not like it's a never ending supply. It will run out at some point. He might as well start thinking about the future away from his father's coffers now.

"Well as long as we've got it out of the way up front that I'm less than average and somewhat dishonest."

His lips keep twitching like they want to smile but can't decide on which way to go, but his eyes smile in a much more decided, amused way that betrays his underlying mischief.

"You also have to promise not to fall in love with me. I️'ve been told it's an unintended side effect of spending time around me."

The smile finally stills on his face now, a lopsided one that pulls up only one side of his mouth, really a half smirk. He's back to their banter from before, clearing enjoying the lack of seriousness and wanting to stick to anything that pulls him away from what it's like at the palace.

"And I️ refuse to be you're next assignment's final meal. No amount of money in the world could compensate for that. Oh, also, right up front, before you ask, no piggy backs. Never piggy backs."

She sighs and dramatically rolls her eyes for impact, feigning some playful disgust at his more than reasonable terms.

"Well, if I can't ride you in more ways than one and feed you to a dragon once we're all done with that, then what's the point?"

Would her mother be having a fit right now at the words spilling from her mouth? Absolutely and it's wonderful and she can't hide that sort of pleasure from her face, though she's hoping it passes as just part of this jesting mood they have between them right now.

"As much as it clearly pains me, I have no other choice but to accept your offer. No love, no piggybacks, and no feeding you to a dragon specifically, any other monsters are for the taking."

Behind her back, she makes sure her leather glove is secure on her hand, covering her skin, before extending it to shake his own with, finally, a proper greeting.

"The name's Luna."

It's as easy a lie as the next to pull a random name from somewhere, no way she could go parading around as "Fengari" still, but she's fond of the meaning of the name and decides to stick in that theme. It had been a quick decision but, honestly, that makes it all the more believable.

He chews on the inside of his mouth some more, eyes dancing a little as he thinks.

"Luna. You can just call me tracker, so you're less attached when you inevitably try to feed me to the monster of your choosing. I️ answer just about anything."

He shakes her hand, and he's surprised at the firmness of it, the properness, but he lets it go. He nods, turns to gather up his knapsack and sling it over his shoulders.

"And another thing. We go at my pace, and I️ don't want to hear any complaining about it. Or I'll be the one feeding you to a dragon."

He barely even looks back to see if she's following him, almost as if to prove his point, as he walks out of the pub, fully aware that he's taking longer steps and she'll need to be fast to keep up with him.

Once outside, the sun has gone down, but leaves a faint glow behind it before the world turns completely dark. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see a huge horse hitched across the street from the entrance and he rolls his eyes before turning around abruptly, almost fast enough for her to run into him.

"Don't tell me that thing is yours. I️ have a strict no horse policy."

His little demand doesn't bother her and she keeps up easily with him. She has a lifetime of following orders and after people taller than her, he isn't the first, he's not special. Even when he turns, she stops quickly, taking a step back so he doesn't swing into her, having enough grace for the both of them, apparently.

Luna's eyes dart to the horse that looks over at the two of them when they walk out, and she just shrugs over at it.

"I stole it, what do I care if you have a no-horse policy or not. Just leave it here, I'm sure someone will want it. Probably the owner."

Probably the King of Natania and his staff once they realize it's missing in the morning. He arches an eyebrow at her, at how easily she admits to stealing a horse like she does it every other day.

"Listen, if you're going to have an ever-growing list of rules then I can, too. My first, which I think we can both agree to because I'm obviously the more reasonable one of this new duo: No questions. If I stole a horse then I stole a horse. End of story."

"Let me get one thing straight, you're free to steal what you like, but I'm also free to judge you for what you waste time on stealing."

He shakes his head at the horse, then turns back to her with one arched eyebrow, clearly in a judgmental mood.

"A horse. God. Do better. Luna."

He tacks her name on at the end like he's reminding himself to use her name, and he's still being playful with her, but there's a note of seriousness that's almost even more humorous than the sarcasm between the two.

He sets off down the street, and instead of following him now she walks along beside him briskly, and he has a hard time masking his surprise at the fact that she's keeping up, but he doesn't acknowledge it.

Once they come to the end of town, the forest isn't far. Within minutes, they're back on the the barely recognizable trail that he'd detoured from earlier, and he's got a thick knife out of his knapsack in a second to beat back offending brush.

"I️ hope you're not allergic to poison oak or anything."

"It's funny that you think that's the only thing I've stolen. No, really, tell me more of the foolish thoughts that go through your mind. Haven't had a good laugh in a while."

His pointed use of her name makes her roll her eyes at his childishness, though he keeps looking back at her in surprise. Did he really think she wouldn't be able to keep up with him? Is he just used to lost incapable people?

Is this going to be a common thing between them? Constantly impressing him over little things? She's starting to wonder if she should have just made the journey herself if he such low expectations of her.

"I'm not allergic to a thing. You'd find that even poison would have a hard time offing me."

It's not like she blames him: She's short and she's a woman. She's heard it all before, it was the main thing her general used against her in hazings. But anyone and everyone with a willing and flexible body could join the army in Atorn, actually it was expected of able-bodied people to give themselves over to the military, so that must not be the case here given if she stands out just walking around like this.

"So, nameless tracker, if you won't think of a false name to give me, should I make an identity up for you? It's going to make it a lot easier on you to travel with a name rather than walking up to people and saying 'I'm just a tracker so call me tracker.' Totally not suspicious at all."

Luna actually mimics his voice pretty well for their tones and pitches being completely different and she's smirking all the while, already trying to come up with something before he even agrees. It's not as if she's wrong: If he's trying to be as under the radar as he appears then he needs to try a little harder to fit in and, honestly, she's just as disappointed as he was about her stealing a horse.

He wants to laugh a little bit, musing to himself at how assertive and defensive she's being, like she's subconsciously gotten used to having to compensate for her size and gender in a business that, at least here, is largely male-driven.

"First of all, I️ never said that's the only thing I️ think you've stolen. All I️ said was do better. Be more impressive next time."

He turns his head to study her a little bit, take in the confident, straight laced way she walks, the way she tries to disguise some of her proper movements.

As they enter the forest, it's clear the path hasn't been properly used in some time, and the overhang has gotten bad. It's low enough to even hang in her face, so at his height, he's hopeless. He starts slashing some of the vines away as they go, and it's quick work but a lot of effort.

"Well I️ highly doubt any poison is going to jump out at you from behind these trees, so you'll be safe on all counts then."

His lips just won't stop twitching at her, like everything she says, her existence, makes him want to pop out another snarky remark and smirk.

"And who says I️ just haven't seen the virtues in not giving my name to someone who's freely admitted to being wanted in the palace dungeons. So it's a crime to be cautious now?"

He makes a snort in his throat at himself, like he's amused himself with what he has to say before he's even said it. He reaches back into his knapsack and pulls out another knife, slightly curved, but just as large.

"That being said, here, have a knife and pull your weight. And I️ think it goes without saying that funny business won't be tolerated."

"I don't need your knife, I have my own. I was just enjoying watching you. I mean, just because I can't fall in love doesn't mean I can't enjoy the view. Besides, gotta bulk you up before I find the right creature to feed you to."

As she pulls her own knife out, she snatches his up too before he has a chance to pull it away, studying it in her hand. She twirls both knives in synchronization, feeling the weight difference, feeling how they dance in her hands. Hers isn't as curved so it may not be as suited for clearing brush like his is, but she doesn't mind dual-wielding, not that showing off a fighting skill is a top priority of hers right now.

Instead, she feigns like she can't, like she was just trying to figure out which knife to use and not how she wants to use both at once. She slips hers back into her pocket and continues with his, more willing to dull his blade than her own.

His eyebrow twitches because that message clearly comes across so she just smirks at him, waving him off.

"So, let's see. Baethan or Beor could work. I think the meaning of those names are very well-suited for you."

Luna winks as she gets to work helping him hack away at their path, determined to find something to call him other than "tracker" despite his desire to keep both his real identity and even a fake one from her. How convoluted could someone be, anyways?

Shand laughs out loud as he slings a particularly harsh blow at a stubborn vine.

"I️ think bulking involves putting on fat, not muscle. So if you have any special baked goods to share, I'll allow that too."

He's not sure how much backlash he'll get for making such a misogynistic comment to her, but the risk is worth it since she's been a pretty good sport so far. Most palace residents that he's engaged in envelope pushing with before have cut him off long before now, so he's intrigued to see when she'll finally get upset and break on him.

"And if we're picking names for each other, why don't I️ just call you Shorty. Or Mouthy. Or Clanky."

He rolls his eyes at how determined she is, as if no one besides himself is allowed to be.

"Oh-ho, wouldn't you like to taste my baked goods and figure out the real reason someone would call me Mouthy."

She very openly rolls her eyes at him, honestly a little disappointed at his lack of creativity.

"Honestly, if I wanted lame half-assed names like that I should have just stuck with the arm-"

And, all of a sudden, she cuts herself off, clearing her throat, focusing more on cutting their path clear like it's the only thing she's been working on this entire time. Her slip makes her reel a little, kicking herself for even bringing that one up... Doesn't make it any truer, though. Here she was thinking he was even halfway clever and then he goes and makes a bit of a sexist remark and weak nicknames.

Guess some men are just doomed to disappoint, especially the ones that start off too good to be true.

"So, while I feel like 'fool' fits you, I'll think of something else. How about Bait? Oh, if you want to actually seem smart to people, called yourself Locke. Heard there's some kind of intellectual named that. At least you'll fool people before you open your mouth. There's always Lucifer, too. That's more if you want to be up-front about the little demon you are."

She could keep going for hours, refusing to let him belittle or look down on her, even if it means keeping up this hardened snarky exterior to no end.

"Ah, the army, huh?"

He gives her a devilish grin as he responds almost immediately, clearly cementing his vote for Lucifer in how he won't let her get away with the slip.

"Here I️ was thinking you were some bad-ass, rebel without a cause, fighter for hire when you're really just one of those sad little anal retentive mindless drones. What if I️ ordered you to make me baked goods then? Would that help?"

He's being intentionally obnoxious now, and even though he'll never divulge the reason to her, he can't hide how he feels about the military. His father had tried to destine him for a military career, make him a prince the people could look up to. It would have been a handy career, what with his abilities and all, but a few short months into training and the general had begged the king to withdraw his son, who apparently had no respect for authority. But in reality, Shand could just never understand people who liked being bossed around and taken advantage of.

Of course, there's more to his comments than that. She's clearly no mercenary that would have ever fought for his father, and the political climate really only leaves one other option. She'd been fighting against Natania. And while the concept puts him slightly at odds with her, he finds it more interesting than anything else. Maybe what he's really stumbled upon, instead of a temporary source of income, is a bargaining chip of some kind.

But he's not so set on being secretive about it that he won't use the topic as more conversation fodder.

"So the Atorn army, huh? I️ hear that one's a special little chunk of hell. Ooh, wouldn't that be a good name, do you like that one, Chunk of Hell? It's a mouthful, but it could suit. Especially for someone fated to be eaten by a not-dragon."

"You know, if I wanted to be ordered around, I would still be within the ranks... Or settled down to some misogynist asshole. Now that I think about it, traveling with you may be a combination of the two."

Her tone has lost some of its playfulness now, not even trying to hide that he has struck something personal.

"I don't give a rat's ass in hell what you say about Atorn, slander it to pieces for all I care, it's a piece of trash. But a new rule of mine to add to our list is that we don't comment on taking orders, lack of free will, or being a mindless soldier. Understand?"

Mostly because those all tick on her own insecurities. She's never been in a position to make her own decisions, to not be in someone's hands, in their leash, manipulated and used. Truth be told, she's not really sure if she has much of a mind and will to speak of. What do those even look like?

What is it like not to be a poker chip in someone's pile or a weapon to bring destruction and then bartered off when is most convenient? She doesn't know, but she so desperately wants to find out.

"If you're going to be a little shit and try to see if you can order me down on my knees for you, then you may as well go ahead and do whatever little stunt it is you're obviously planning now that you know I have a past with the Atorn military. Just get it over with so I can slice you open and then be on my merry way alone."

If alone is what it takes to find her answers, then she's more than willing to tough it out from here. It's not like she wasn't expecting to ride solo for the rest of her life, but Dakara had made it seem like finding a tracker was the wisest thing to do. She shouldn't have listened to the servant.

What scares her the most about all of this is what if one day this nameless man does give her and order and, because of her life, she blindly follows it, only realizing too late how it will ruin her life? Actually, that's what scares her about being around basically every single person alive, but she's suddenly more wary of him than anyone else since they're a traveling duo.

"Aaaaaaand there it is. We have successfully located your sore point."

Shand just keeps hacking away at the overhang, not even bothering to turn and look at her, his lips pursed now and frowning with a little bit of disappointment. She had, at least, lasted longer than most. But it means his fun is over and he'll have to tread more carefully now if he wants his life to be even somewhat pleasant from here on out.

"Settle down, I'm not making it my life's mission to offend you. I️ poke until I️ get an explosion. It's just what I️ do. And I'm satisfied now."

She still seems to have taken a large measure of personal offense, clearly worked up by how she's throwing herself into slicing at brush that doesn't even need clearing. It makes him feel a little bad for pushing her to that.

Although it had been intentional, he hadn't mean for her to take it that hard. So he sighs and shrugs his shoulders to make a concession.

"I️ was almost in the military once. They sent me back. My dad wasn't too happy. I've been a little bitter ever since."

"Well, you weren't missing much. You can tell your father that."

Luna answers quickly, actually getting a little ahead of him in their task now. Maybe she had lost her cool a little too quickly and she's not really even sure why she couldn't keep it together. It's not like he knew he was about to push that very specific flaw and insecurity, they had just been bantering. She had given him that ammo, though unintentionally, anyways.

She sighs, slowing down a little, now making sure she doesn't leave him behind in some odd role reversal.

"Listen, you were better off for not making it, I'm being completely transparent with you here. You became a better person because of that. The military is... Well, it's torture and it does manufacture mindless puppet soldiers. I'm sorry your father felt the need to ship you off to something like that, but I personally wouldn't think on it too much."

It's difficult, but she brings her tone back up from offended annoyance to light and playful, but also honest.

"You were spared a 'noble death.' Why look a gift horse in the mouth? If you stare too long, petty little thieves like me won't have a chance to steal it."

She shrugs her shoulders, willing to look over the past minute of awkward tension that she feels like she created.

He quirks a quick smile at her attempt to patch things over, and he'll let it stand. His smile is tighter, though, thinner, as he thinks over the fact that his father had probably been counting on that noble death for him, an idea that's crossed his mind over and over for years on end.

"Well now that you've met me, I'm sure you can intuit why he felt the need to try and even me out that way. But no harm done. My stubbornness got out in tact. Scorpions in commanding officers' boots often have that effect."

He smiles genuinely at that, genuinely being in full-force mischief. He lets her work a little ahead him, watching out in front of them for the point coming up where the trail dips and opens up to follow a small stream.

"And please don't forget you're supposed to impress me next time, so you better lay off stealing horses and go for something flashy. I️ like shiny things, in case you were wondering."