See, he tells himself, it's fine. Vex is certainly in a fine mood, still of a mind to tease him as she sits back down. If there's slightly more space between them, Percy has yet to notice.
And so that moment of concern is forgotten as quickly as it started. Shoving the parchment and pencil back into a pocket, he gives her an easy smile. "Why is that? Are we traveling to a city without beer tomorrow?"
The swig he takes is a judicious one despite the joke; if savoring is what she advises, he's willing to listen.
"Are you kidding? Grog would riot." To say nothing of the rest of them. They are, as a team, one that benefits from a little social lubrication. (A comment Vex would never say aloud out of caution Scanlan would hear.)
"But we will be leaving town, and we'll have several days sleeping rough before we get to the next town worth naming. Less comfort. Less booze. Less privacy."
He'd expect nothing less of a man called Grog, truthfully. Or of the ready of the group - his first impression hasn't been one of sobriety or moderation.
"Then we'll have to make the most of what we have tonight," Percy says. Easy to say and, he thinks, not much more difficult to accomplish. "I don't suppose we could commandeer a room while the others are occupied."
If they bar the door, that's privacy enough for the span of a night.
"Darling, I do appreciate your ingenuity, but you do have to realize we'd have a mutiny on our hands if we took one room all to ourselves." She says it lightly, like it's a joke. There's an airiness to it. Can you imagine?
She takes another drink, long and savoring.
"Besides, it would rather defeat the purpose of having privacy if they'd be able to guess what we were up to."
"Ah." His expression grows less open by degrees, the almost boyish smile slowly dissolving back into something more guarded. Without thinking, he reaches for his beer and takes another, longer sip. "Er - you're quite right."
She is, after all. It's common sense that their coin - the charity he's currently drinking away - will only stretch so far. And he's seen her glance over in her twin's direction repeatedly tonight. Even a bit inebriated - and God, does he suddenly wish he were more so - Percy can put the pieces together. She doesn't want the others to be aware, and she particularly doesn't want her brother to know. Any interest she might have is finite, its boundaries limited to the margins of the world where no one else is looking.
It's sensible and likely wise; it'll keep everyone happy and preserve all the interpersonal dynamics he doesn't know anything about. She's keeping him from making his time with her comrades a short one via his own stupidity. He really ought to be grateful.
It's a pity, then, that all he feels is a cold, heavy stone lodging itself in his chest.
"Well," he adds, trying and failing to summon back that elation of having been the subject of someone's affection, "I'll, uh, I'll look forward to our next town."
There's a little pang of guilt when she sees Percy's expression fall. Vex pushes it away ruthlessly. They've known each other a very short time—not enough time to get Percy's clothes properly laundered, let alone replaced. If he saw more in this than a fun little addition, something to make their—again, very new—arrangement as pleasant as possible, then that isn't her fault.
What harm is there in keeping things to a tryst here and there?
"No need to get so ahead of ourselves. We were just discussing breakfast after all."
There's no helping it: she's clearly seen right through him to the disappointment hiding behind his eyes. It's embarrassing - no, mortifying. No, it makes the prison cell seem downright cozy compared to the misery of having his own moronic hopes on display in full view of someone who doesn't share them.
The worst part of all of this isn't even the awareness that she'd rather not be more entangled than absolutely necessary. He can live with that. It's the fact that she finally seems to have noticed just how pitiful he is, and she's responding accordingly. Darling is a welcoming sound from her right up until it's meant to mollify him.
"It's fine, Vex'ahlia," he tells her, and in his attempt to sound even-handed, the words are slightly clipped. At the moment, he doesn't notice. The back of his neck is burning. "Please - forget I said anything."
Another sip of ale as punctuation. The sooner he can finish this pint, the sooner he can escape to whatever flea-ridden straw-tick mattress will be his tonight.
"Percy darling," Vex says, a little waver in her tone as though she can't quite decide on the note to strike. Should she be sympathetic, gently setting the record straight? Should she laugh it off, as though it's some joke or misunderstanding? Is she stung by the change in his demeanor, so flattering a moment before?
She clears her throat and shifts slightly. Her gaze dropping to her beer before taking a drink.
If anything, her posture turns more conspiratorial.
"You think this is a rejection?" Better. Confident. Understanding. There's no tint of nervous laughter coloring the words this time.
He's too caught up in his own feelings to read hers accurately. Mistakes are inevitable in any life, but they're far more tolerable at the worktable. At most, he finds setbacks annoying. When it comes to moments like this, when it's evident that his assumptions have marked him out as a naive fool, erring is unbearable.
And so, what he hears in her voice is pity, more than anything. She's confident and conspiratorial, and in the moment, it feels like an attempt to pacify him.
"I think you've made yourself quite clear." Percy stares down at his tankard, wondering idly if he might be able to will the earth to swallow him up, so he might escape this conversation. "It's fine - really."
He looks up at her then and finds what looks to him like annoyance. It's better than pity, but not by much, and he'd still rather sink down into the floorboards.
But he's here, and she's looking at him with a kind of frustrated expectation, and he does owe her a response. She deserves that much, after all she's done for him tonight.
"You'd like to be as discreet as possible, and you'd particularly like it if your brother had no idea," he says...and when he puts it like that, there's no reason whatsoever to be upset about it. Those are perfectly sensible desires to have. This is all a matter of bruised ego, and he's being an idiot - but that doesn't mean the bruise doesn't still ache. "Unless I've misunderstood."
Honestly, when he says it back to her Vex does have some trouble understanding the issue. It sounds as reasonable aloud as it had in her head. It's not a proposition that she'd expect anyone to scoff at.
Especially not someone she's just bloody met. It's not like she's asking him to hide the fact they're engaged.
"No, it turns out you've understood more or less exactly." She sits a little straighter, gathering her dignity. "Perhaps you'd care to tell me which part of that you object to?"
He grits his teeth for a moment, trying to recapture that sense of calm that had existed as they walked back from the baths. This conversation has intensified in ways he wasn't expecting, for reasons he can't explain.
"I don't." While poverty has been true of him for years now, making an ass of himself in front of women hasn't, and he feels it. When Percy forces honesty out of his mouth this time, it's harder than it was in the prison. Having a tooth pulled would be pleasant by comparison. "I'm...embarrassed, all right? I misread the situation, and I'd love it if we could talk about anything else in the world besides that fact."
Please, save him from the agony of looking too eager in the face of affection.
Vex makes a sound at that, not quite scoffing. There's the sense she'll say something else. That she'll argue—Vex has rarely been the kind of person to shy away from an argument.
Percy's tensed, waiting for things to take a turn for the worse, watching her with a wary sidelong gaze. She resents, though, and he breathes out, his shoulders sagging forward.
"Thank you." Honesty saves his life once more, it seems. However much he might regret the way this night has ended up, Vex'ahlia is nothing if not merciful in the face of the truth. He resolves here not to lie to her - or to minimize the lies he tells her, at least. He'll avoid everything he can't let her know, focus on the things he can, and hope she'll still be interested after a week or two out in the wild. "I, er - I think I've taken enough advantage of your friendship for one night. If you'll excuse me -"
He begins to stand up, his final pint still only half-drunk.
"Hm. It has been a long day." She doesn't make any attempt to stop him, but her demeanor doesn't turn more hostile either. As she says it, the truth in her statement sinks in. It has been long, with more ups and downs than most people have in a week.
She finds a little patience in that.
"We'll still be leaving in the morning, later rather than earlier, but we'll be out of here before noon if I have to strap the gnome to Trinket's back and carry him."
Which is to say, she still considers them a we, and until she hears otherwise, Percy is expected to come.
That's a relief to hear, the invitation clearly within the comment. Be up before midday shouldn't be difficult, even feeling the weariness in his bones. And then they'll leave all of Stilben behind, and he'll have ample opportunity to search for Ripley as he travels.
"Of course." He's about to go, but there is one other thing, and in a moment, it's written on his face. Mild embarrassment (that might linger forever), or possibly worry, makes him hesitate - and then it makes him grab his mug and down the rest of his beer in a courage-giving gulp. "Er. I hate to ask, especially when we're about to sleep rough for a while, but if there's any coin left tomorrow morning, and there might be time to find a replacement for...oh, all of this..."
Percy pulls at one of his filthy shirtsleeves.
"I will repay you, as soon as I'm able." More importantly, he'd gladly have her along to hold the purse strings, not least because he suspects she'll be able to make a better deal than he.
Vex huffs softly at the question, giving him a measure with quick glances of her eyes. Not that there's any new information to gather. She already got a fairly thorough sense of the size of him when she had her hands all over him.
"Well, you're too tall to borrow from Vax, and Grog and Scanlan are right out," she observes, stating the obvious. Percy is all long and slim, and likely was even before his stint in a cell.
"That seems reasonable enough. You will have to wake up before noon though."
He's smiling wider than he should, a return of that stupid open expression he'd work as they left the bathhouse. It's something important, evidence that he's with investing in, and he feels it through his whole body just then.
And then he realizes he must look like a fool, standing there and smiling down at her, and he tries to tame it back. "Of course. Thank you. Er - goodnight."
Better to make his escape now before he spoils things.
"Sleep well, Percy dear," she says as he leaves, her voice pitched not to carry as far as any of the other patrons (and certainly not their teammates). "You've earned your rest."
Any sleep is better than what he'd got in the prison, but between the booze and the tumult of the night, he's out like a light. In the morning, he wakes to discover that Vax and Grog collapsed onto their beds at some point, though Scanlan isn't present.
He beats Vex downstairs, though it's not long before she's there as well, bartering them a breakfast of bread and cheese before hurrying them out the door. The conversation is lighter than last night, and thinner on the ground - in part because some of his nerves have returned, and he's aware of the fact that he's spending more of her money - but overall, it's not unpleasant. Particularly not when once they find some clothing that's clean and respectable-looking. Something of the prisoner recedes; something of the nobleman is evident when he slips on a fresh shirt and a new (to him) coat.
It's another little oasis in time, one that ends once the rest of the team wakes. The next town - the next job - awaits, and the rhythm of travel is a familiar one. One night, a few days into the thick forest they're crossing, he finds himself seated beside Vex at the campfire. Not too close, not angled too far towards her, but near enough that he can speak at a volume only she can hear. "I find the evenings are the dullest part of travel. Do you?"
Vex glances over at Percy, thinking not for the first time that a bath and some new clothes agree with him. It's not just that he cleans up well. It's more that he was clearly always meant to be polished. Even finer than the sharp coat and well cut trousers she bargained down for him. He was like the good silver—he didn't clean up well, he was meant to be kept clean in the first place.
And perhaps only broken out for special occasions.
She shrugs off the thought, tipping her head and offering him a smile. "If everything is going well, it is. Better dull than fighting off bandits, but... well, you're not wrong."
One brow rises in question.
"There's always conversation? Some of us never shut up."
"I've noticed," he answers dryly, glancing across the fire, where Scanlan's having an animated conversation with Pike. Percy's been treated to several stories from the bard over the last few days, most of them unrepeatable in mixed company.
It's been...nice, actually, to be welcomed into the group as quickly as he has been. No doubt he'll feel like an interloper for some time to come, but no one present seems to regard him as one. He fades easily into the fabric of their team, staying quiet for the most part but never feeling like the others are looking at him with suspicion. It's not something he could say for every group he's traveled with - and considering that these people plucked him out of a prison, it's incredible that he can say it here.
"I thought," and this is a risk, he knows, but it's one he wants to take, "we might go for a walk. I know we've been walking all day, but I find myself...restless."
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pathography) wrote2004-12-29 06:14 pm
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And so that moment of concern is forgotten as quickly as it started. Shoving the parchment and pencil back into a pocket, he gives her an easy smile. "Why is that? Are we traveling to a city without beer tomorrow?"
The swig he takes is a judicious one despite the joke; if savoring is what she advises, he's willing to listen.
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"But we will be leaving town, and we'll have several days sleeping rough before we get to the next town worth naming. Less comfort. Less booze. Less privacy."
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"Then we'll have to make the most of what we have tonight," Percy says. Easy to say and, he thinks, not much more difficult to accomplish. "I don't suppose we could commandeer a room while the others are occupied."
If they bar the door, that's privacy enough for the span of a night.
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She takes another drink, long and savoring.
"Besides, it would rather defeat the purpose of having privacy if they'd be able to guess what we were up to."
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She is, after all. It's common sense that their coin - the charity he's currently drinking away - will only stretch so far. And he's seen her glance over in her twin's direction repeatedly tonight. Even a bit inebriated - and God, does he suddenly wish he were more so - Percy can put the pieces together. She doesn't want the others to be aware, and she particularly doesn't want her brother to know. Any interest she might have is finite, its boundaries limited to the margins of the world where no one else is looking.
It's sensible and likely wise; it'll keep everyone happy and preserve all the interpersonal dynamics he doesn't know anything about. She's keeping him from making his time with her comrades a short one via his own stupidity. He really ought to be grateful.
It's a pity, then, that all he feels is a cold, heavy stone lodging itself in his chest.
"Well," he adds, trying and failing to summon back that elation of having been the subject of someone's affection, "I'll, uh, I'll look forward to our next town."
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There's a little pang of guilt when she sees Percy's expression fall. Vex pushes it away ruthlessly. They've known each other a very short time—not enough time to get Percy's clothes properly laundered, let alone replaced. If he saw more in this than a fun little addition, something to make their—again, very new—arrangement as pleasant as possible, then that isn't her fault.
What harm is there in keeping things to a tryst here and there?
"No need to get so ahead of ourselves. We were just discussing breakfast after all."
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The worst part of all of this isn't even the awareness that she'd rather not be more entangled than absolutely necessary. He can live with that. It's the fact that she finally seems to have noticed just how pitiful he is, and she's responding accordingly. Darling is a welcoming sound from her right up until it's meant to mollify him.
"It's fine, Vex'ahlia," he tells her, and in his attempt to sound even-handed, the words are slightly clipped. At the moment, he doesn't notice. The back of his neck is burning. "Please - forget I said anything."
Another sip of ale as punctuation. The sooner he can finish this pint, the sooner he can escape to whatever flea-ridden straw-tick mattress will be his tonight.
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She clears her throat and shifts slightly. Her gaze dropping to her beer before taking a drink.
If anything, her posture turns more conspiratorial.
"You think this is a rejection?" Better. Confident. Understanding. There's no tint of nervous laughter coloring the words this time.
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And so, what he hears in her voice is pity, more than anything. She's confident and conspiratorial, and in the moment, it feels like an attempt to pacify him.
"I think you've made yourself quite clear." Percy stares down at his tankard, wondering idly if he might be able to will the earth to swallow him up, so he might escape this conversation. "It's fine - really."
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(She is also beneath him, something they'd both realize if he were thinking more clearly and not fresh out of prison, she's sure.)
"Is that so? Because it seems that I've been misunderstood."
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But he's here, and she's looking at him with a kind of frustrated expectation, and he does owe her a response. She deserves that much, after all she's done for him tonight.
"You'd like to be as discreet as possible, and you'd particularly like it if your brother had no idea," he says...and when he puts it like that, there's no reason whatsoever to be upset about it. Those are perfectly sensible desires to have. This is all a matter of bruised ego, and he's being an idiot - but that doesn't mean the bruise doesn't still ache. "Unless I've misunderstood."
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Especially not someone she's just bloody met. It's not like she's asking him to hide the fact they're engaged.
"No, it turns out you've understood more or less exactly." She sits a little straighter, gathering her dignity. "Perhaps you'd care to tell me which part of that you object to?"
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"I don't." While poverty has been true of him for years now, making an ass of himself in front of women hasn't, and he feels it. When Percy forces honesty out of his mouth this time, it's harder than it was in the prison. Having a tooth pulled would be pleasant by comparison. "I'm...embarrassed, all right? I misread the situation, and I'd love it if we could talk about anything else in the world besides that fact."
Please, save him from the agony of looking too eager in the face of affection.
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Instead she leans back then, shrugging.
"Very well, darling. I'll leave you be."
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"Thank you." Honesty saves his life once more, it seems. However much he might regret the way this night has ended up, Vex'ahlia is nothing if not merciful in the face of the truth. He resolves here not to lie to her - or to minimize the lies he tells her, at least. He'll avoid everything he can't let her know, focus on the things he can, and hope she'll still be interested after a week or two out in the wild. "I, er - I think I've taken enough advantage of your friendship for one night. If you'll excuse me -"
He begins to stand up, his final pint still only half-drunk.
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She finds a little patience in that.
"We'll still be leaving in the morning, later rather than earlier, but we'll be out of here before noon if I have to strap the gnome to Trinket's back and carry him."
Which is to say, she still considers them a we, and until she hears otherwise, Percy is expected to come.
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"Of course." He's about to go, but there is one other thing, and in a moment, it's written on his face. Mild embarrassment (that might linger forever), or possibly worry, makes him hesitate - and then it makes him grab his mug and down the rest of his beer in a courage-giving gulp. "Er. I hate to ask, especially when we're about to sleep rough for a while, but if there's any coin left tomorrow morning, and there might be time to find a replacement for...oh, all of this..."
Percy pulls at one of his filthy shirtsleeves.
"I will repay you, as soon as I'm able." More importantly, he'd gladly have her along to hold the purse strings, not least because he suspects she'll be able to make a better deal than he.
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"Well, you're too tall to borrow from Vax, and Grog and Scanlan are right out," she observes, stating the obvious. Percy is all long and slim, and likely was even before his stint in a cell.
"That seems reasonable enough. You will have to wake up before noon though."
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And then he realizes he must look like a fool, standing there and smiling down at her, and he tries to tame it back. "Of course. Thank you. Er - goodnight."
Better to make his escape now before he spoils things.
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"Sleep well, Percy dear," she says as he leaves, her voice pitched not to carry as far as any of the other patrons (and certainly not their teammates). "You've earned your rest."
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He beats Vex downstairs, though it's not long before she's there as well, bartering them a breakfast of bread and cheese before hurrying them out the door. The conversation is lighter than last night, and thinner on the ground - in part because some of his nerves have returned, and he's aware of the fact that he's spending more of her money - but overall, it's not unpleasant. Particularly not when once they find some clothing that's clean and respectable-looking. Something of the prisoner recedes; something of the nobleman is evident when he slips on a fresh shirt and a new (to him) coat.
It's another little oasis in time, one that ends once the rest of the team wakes. The next town - the next job - awaits, and the rhythm of travel is a familiar one. One night, a few days into the thick forest they're crossing, he finds himself seated beside Vex at the campfire. Not too close, not angled too far towards her, but near enough that he can speak at a volume only she can hear. "I find the evenings are the dullest part of travel. Do you?"
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And perhaps only broken out for special occasions.
She shrugs off the thought, tipping her head and offering him a smile. "If everything is going well, it is. Better dull than fighting off bandits, but... well, you're not wrong."
One brow rises in question.
"There's always conversation? Some of us never shut up."
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It's been...nice, actually, to be welcomed into the group as quickly as he has been. No doubt he'll feel like an interloper for some time to come, but no one present seems to regard him as one. He fades easily into the fabric of their team, staying quiet for the most part but never feeling like the others are looking at him with suspicion. It's not something he could say for every group he's traveled with - and considering that these people plucked him out of a prison, it's incredible that he can say it here.
"I thought," and this is a risk, he knows, but it's one he wants to take, "we might go for a walk. I know we've been walking all day, but I find myself...restless."