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[inkindled]

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some point after the kissing party, w/e

[justashotaway]

[GOOD NEWS, MATTHIAS. At some point while you were sleeping, somebody sniffed out where you were, located your bed within the room, and left

• Two (2) oranges
• One (1) square of chocolate, wrapped up in thin paper and tied with a bit of string

on the mattress beside you. Hope you don't knock it off the bed before you wake. Sure is weird to leave stuff in somebody's bed while they're asleep in it, wonder who'd do that.]

[inkindled]

[Matthias wakes up when he rolls over and one of the oranges falls to the floor with a heavy soft sound. He grabs the other one before it falls, too. It won't taste any worse for falling but still.

When he opens the chocolate packet, he makes a pleased sound to the empty dormitory room, tears the paper off the rest of the way so he can eat it right away. They make a kind of sense together, enough that he can guess at who left them. There's no one around to ask, and certainly no one around to thank. He carries the thought of the gifts with him for the rest of the day, confused but heartened. Tries looking for Laura without trying too hard. Maybe he should work out where she sleeps. No, that would be weird. But he could leave her a present if he knew where she slept. He weighs these options and comes up with more questions.]

[justashotaway]

[She is aware, at least a little, that leaving food for Matthias to find rather than presenting it to him directly is not what normal people would do. And perhaps she would have tried to be normal, if the thought of explaining herself wasn't paralyzing. But she feared the idea of having to speak over the message she wants to believe is clear in the gifts: I am sorry. And I pay my debts.

Soon after she leaves his room, before she falls back asleep in hers, it occurs to her that she might only be delaying the inevitable conversation. He will know it was her, and it will be there between them the next time they see each other.

She spends the day endeavouring not to be seen--but she watches him from a distance whenever she can, trying to determine from the shadows whether he seems pleased. Whether she succeeds entirely at remaining unnoticed is, as always, in question.]

[inkindled]

[So he's not the most observant. In the list of all the traits anyone has ever listed, positively, about Matthias, observant has never been one of them. Once walked into a tree. That sort of thing.

But he's looking for Laura. Which means that, throughout the day, he thinks that he sees her. Once it was someone else, a girl delivering potatoes, and she gives Matthias a very amused look and tells him she could pretend her name was Laura, if he wanted, and he'd practically run the other direction. Once it was a chair with a coat on it. That one was especially stupid. All about the light and the angle and then when he'd realized his mistake, he couldn't remember what it was about the chair and coat that had made him think it was a person, much less a person that he knew. And then once it was nothing, probably just him trying and hoping so hard to see her that he conjectured her, sort of--

But then once it is her. Or he thinks it is, anyways. Around a corner, in the shadow of one of the archways--dark hair, glinting eyes--and Matthias feels something pluck in his chest and he slings the bag of sausage he's carrying over his shoulder and runs to close the distance between them.]

Oi! Laura!

[justashotaway]

[Laura had no intention of being seen, and the surprise of it freezes her in place. This is not what was supposed to happen; her intent was to watch him as long as she could, for reasons she'd steadfastly refused to explore, and for him to have no idea. Did he smell her? Did she move when he was looking nearby, or--?

She should leave. She could pretend she didn't hear him and go off in another direction--or climb, especially if she used her claws. Run is what her head says to her legs, but her legs refuse to respond. And Matthias is coming closer.

If she leaves now, she will only have to do this later, when he finds her again. (If he finds her again. He might not wish to, at that point.) And she will have to see all the light leave his face again, and this time, without the mask. So she braces herself for whatever comes next, watching him approach with a mix of dread and...something else. Something more hopeful, much more fragile. She does not speak--of course she doesn't.]

[inkindled]

[Right as he's running up to her, Matthias thinks, Why am I doing this? Where is this going to go? What is he going to say to her? Acknowledging the gifts seems stupid. If she'd wanted acknowledgement, stands to reason that she'd have stuck around, right. And then what if they weren't from her? Well, no, they've got to be--too specific to be from someone else--but still--

It's too late for such thoughts. They're face-to-face now, and Laura looks like she's wearing a mask. She's unreadable. Whereas Matthias likely looks like a lunatic, trying to smile and trying to remain normal-looking, whatever that means--]

Hi.

[Good start.]

How're you?

[justashotaway]

[Matthias looks as normal as he always does--no, he looks better. There's something of his usual manic energy, but something else, too. (It's that he's smiling at her. No matter what else happens, she will keep his smile in her mind and bring it out again when she is alone.) And in return, she's...she's herself. Dour, uncertain, biting into her lower lip for a moment before she answers.]

Fine.

[This, she has learned, is what you say when you do not want to tell somebody how you are but care enough not to ignore the question. I do not know how I am seems like an embarrassing answer, like something only she would ever have to say.]

How...how are you?

[Small talk: not her strong suit. It feels unnatural, asking.]

[inkindled]

Great. Good. Yeah.

[Yeah. He shifts his weight to his other foot and folds his arms over his chest, trying to look casual and disaffected. It doesn't work very well. The innate shine of him comes through too strong, radiating happy eagerness.]

I've been looking for you. I mean, not-- just 'cause. I found the stuff. The--oranges and chocolate and all. That was-- I mean, thanks. Thanks for it. It was great. 'Coarse, now I have to get you an orange. 'Cause I'm one down now.

[Oh, wait. He spares a glance around her, trying to pick up on clues.]

Were you-- did I interrupt you? Or anything? Sorry. Just ran up and started talking--I dunno when to shut up.

[justashotaway]

[The fact that he talks to her like nothing's changed is strangely comforting. Perhaps nothing has, besides the fact that she no longer owes any oranges. You do not owe me, she wants to say. That was a gift. And then she can stand there and enjoy the familiar scent of his hair and listen to him talk. But--

But he keeps talking, and she realizes that she has no comprehensible excuse to be here.]

...No. I was-- [Watching you. No, she knows better than to say that. Lamely, she tries to elide over it.] I was not doing anything.

[Something else needs to be said, she knows just enough to realize as much--but not enough to know what she should be saying. So she falls silent, watching him for some idea.]

[inkindled]

[Being accustomed to doing the bulk of the talking, Matthias picks up the end of the conversation with cheerful agreeability.]

Yeah? Me neither. Well--

[He swings the bag around to show it to her. There are a few faint grease stains showing through.]

These're for the griffons. I'm trying to get them to like me. It's going... [Eh. He winces, with a rueful grin.] Well, it's all right. Anyway, good. I'm glad I didn't interrupt you or anything.

[Should he mention the dance? No. Probably not. Or should he? Matthias shifts his weight again, scratches at his hair, then realizes that's the hand that was all sausagey, and pulls it away to consider it with some mild despair. Shit.]

I guess that's-- all I wanted to say.

[justashotaway]

[Laura observes his bag of meat, as Matthias seems to want her to do.]

They do not like me, either.

[At least he isn't alone in that. Right? And he has a far better chance of making peace with the creatures than she, if only because he has a bag of sausages on hand (and no claws to speak of). She should let him go and feed the griffons and charm them into good behavior.

The problem is that she would like him to stay here in this shadowy stretch of corridor, because that would mean he remained with her, and she has no idea what to say to make it happen. Stay, perhaps, would be the obvious choice, but the thought of receiving No in answer is humiliating. The best she can come up with is what she had hoped to say before.]

You do not owe me an orange. [She feels stupid now that she's actually saying it, the words coming out hasty.] It was a gift.

[inkindled]

Yeah? That makes me feel a bit better. Maybe they could, though. If you bribe 'em. That's my plan.

[Hopefully she misses the quiet squelch that the bag makes when he slings it over his shoulder. The perfume of smoke and spice blooms out from the impact. It smells like breakfast. Between that and the mention of oranges, Matthias realizes that he could eat again. This distracts him enough that he misses how quickly she blurts the rest of it out.]

Oh--yeah. No, I know. But I want to get you another one. It'll be like... not a joke, precisely. But sort of like a joke. Inside, like that. And if I'm always giving you oranges, that means I'll always be getting oranges back. Supply and demand.

[That's something he's heard other people say, casually applied to this situation. Makes sense: he's both supplying the oranges, and demanding the oranges. But friendly-like.]

Wish I'd brought one of 'em with me. I ate one this morning, and then I saved the other one. I'll be glad of it later. Only I'm hungry now, but that's nearly always, for me.

[justashotaway]

Maybe.

[She notices the sound the bag makes and the smell that permeates the air, but it does not seem anywhere near as important as what Matthias is saying just then. That he will bring her more oranges, and she will do the same in answer, and it will always be something they have. It means he will want to keep talking to her, or he would accept the gift and say nothing more. They will still see each other.

It is a great relief, one that shows on her face as her features relaxing, mouth nearly a smile. She wants to touch his hand, the one that smells less strongly of sausage. She does not reach for him.

And, after a moment, she glances at the bag of meat on his shoulder. It smells edible enough, if nowhere are delicious as an orange.]

You have sausage.

[inkindled]

[See, persistence and talking a lot sometimes pay off! This is going great. Not talking about the dance was absolutely the right move.

--Oh, the sausages. Matthias shoots a glance over his shoulder, and falters.]

Yeah-- right. Yeah. Those're for the griffons, though. Unless--d'you want one? I'd give you one if you did.

[What a gentleman. He shifts his weight again. How do people do this? One minute he feels like he's got a handle on this and he can talk to Laura and the next he feels like a tit. Who offers a girl a sausage? But an actual sausage. Who does that. Only him.]

Or if you're not doing anything, really. And if you're-- I mean, I'm the one who's hungry. But I could go to the hall and see if there's food around to eat. And you could come as well, if you like. If you're hungry. If you're not, that's-- fine.

[justashotaway]

[She does not want to steal from the mouths of the griffons, considering that their affection for Matthias is on the line. He will need the sausages for that, whereas she already feels some strain of affection for him. It would be a waste to give them to her.

After a moment's thought, she decides that she is not hungry, but that she can attempt to be, if it means they will not have to go their separate ways.]

I will come. [And then, to ensure she will not arouse suspicion when they arrive:] Though I may not eat much.

[But she will eat just enough that her presence will have a purpose beyond watching Matthias.

It is surprisingly comfortable to walk with him to the dining hall, as if nothing has changed. She does not entirely believe it, but she's heartened enough to give a stab at conversation.]

Do you visit the griffons often?

[inkindled]

S' all right, I'll eat enough for us both.

[Pleased, there's a lift in Matthias' steps as they walk along together. The dining hall isn't so far off, far enough to work up his appetite even more. Not that it needs it.]

I dunno about often. Sort of, I s'ppose. My friend, Merrill, she's got, what d'you call it. She's bonded with one of 'em. She's the one who got me in to see 'em. I don't think I'm meant to go all on my own, really, but I sort of got in the habit--see, a few months back, they thought a load of people had died. Turned about to be a false report, or they were hoping that everyone would eventually be dead, or something along those lines--anyway, but, Merrill was one of 'em. So I started visiting the griffons then, more'n I had been. It was, [and he winces a little, here,] well, it was sort of stupid. I was thinking that I didn't want 'em to miss having her around.

[There is something a little too honest about that. Matthias feels a little pink in the cheeks; he coughs into his shoulder, trying to move the moment on.]

'Scuse me. Er. Anyway. That's how I started on it. I s'ppose I like animals as well, in general. There were loads about when I was a kid. Not dogs. I bloody well hate dogs.

[justashotaway]

[One of the most pleasant aspects of talking to Matthias is that she really does not have to talk at all; he tells stories the way other people breathe. Even without knowing who Merrill is (and feeling an inexplicable stab of the territorial as he describes visiting the griffons with her, just for a moment), she enjoys listening. Especially at the moments when he says things that matter in ways other things don't, like his desire to prevent loneliness in the griffons. It is...it is admirable. Not at all stupid.

But he keeps talking before she is entirely decided on saying as much, so she does not. Instead, she asks the inevitable question.]

Why?

[She suspects his reason differs from hers.]

[inkindled]

[He lifts his shoulders and drops them.]

I dunno. [It comes out in a mumbly boyish beats-me way. Teenage universality.] I reckon I must have matched up against one when I was small and come out on that bad end of it, or something. But ages ago, much longer'n I remember back. Instead what I've got is, ever since I can remember, dogs put me on edge.

There's a warden here and she's got this mabari that's all right. And Gwenaëlle Baudin-- [He puts on a stuff posh voice for that name, exaggerated.] --she's got this massive dog that she keeps about. I met it once. Didn't like it, but it didn't eat my face, so now that's two dogs against all the rest that I can't sodding stand. Maybe when I'm ancient I'll have come around to liking them.

[He sucks his teeth, thoughtful and judgement, and delivers a death knell to that hope:] Doubt it.

Don't tell me you've got some dog secreted away in your room? Hey, where's it you're staying, anyways? I wanted to look for you before. Didn't know where.

[justashotaway]

[That...she does not understand it, admittedly. But she has seen people shrink back from house spiders from what are likely similar reasons. She can recognize that sense of unreasonable get it away from me, if from a distance.]

No.

[The only secret thing in her room is the box she is putting her wages into.]

The Templar tower. [It still smells faintly of lyrium to her--or she imagines it does--and that, Laura finds strangely comforting. Better than the thought of spells echoing around her, at least.] Climb six flights of stairs.

[She hesitates before speaking again, wanting to ask a question and doubting the wisdom of doing so. But curiosity--and something more selfish, less certain in its purpose--wins out.]

Why were you looking for me?

[inkindled]

'Cause--

[And here Matthias hesitates, too, derailed from his easy track. He's unsure if he should bring up the dance now, if he should leave it unsaid, if it should be something that passes by without comment or scrutiny or definition.]

'Cause I wanted to see you.

[There. That's true, and he feels a little braced by that. Nothing weird or uncertain about that one.]

To thank you. And 'cause I hadn't seen you. It's amazing, sort of, that the Gallows is as big as it is. Like all of the people that live here, and I can still go a day without seeing someone. So--it's good to know where I could go to find you. If I wanted to. [He touches his fingertips to his forehead, a man committing something to memory.] Templar tower, six flights of stairs.

[--wait, that was stupid. Embarrassed, he drops his hand, and grins self-consciously.]

Anyway. That's all.

[justashotaway]

[It doesn't occur to her to find any of that stupid. Instead, it is...she should be concerned at the thought of anyone knowing where she sleeps, but Matthias is not anyone. He will not do something to compromise her safety--and she could take him, anyway, if he tried.

She is quiet for a moment or two, longing to say something and deciding it is a bad idea and wanting to anyway. In the end, the desire to speak wins out, but only just. Her voice is quiet, hesitant.]

I wanted to see you, too.

[inkindled]

[Oh. Well.

Matthias looks around at her and grins, huge and goonish. Then he makes himself look away again, lest he embarrass himself any more than he already has, or is.]

Brilliant. good. I mean, yeah. Er-- hang on, here--

[He jogs ahead of her a few paces, hurrying to get to the door to the hall first so he can hold it open for her. It gives him a moment to collect himself, swallowing hard to dissipate the ringing in his ears, and the buzzing in his fingertips. Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. Maybe he still ought to bring up what happened, but for now, surely it's all right to just-- enjoy this.]

[justashotaway]

[He holds the door open for her, which is...nice. It is new. And the way he lit up like a bonfire when she spoke, like the word brilliant was a description of him--

If there is a word that captures the tendrils of warmth that seem to be curling around the bones of her ribcage, she does not know it. She glances up at his face as she walks past him, at the way his smile's overtaken every visible speck of him, and tentatively, she smiles back.

It feels strange.]

[inkindled]

[He's clumsy in the way he lets the door bang closed behind them, but his fingers still feel all tingly. Walking away hadn't helped. Maybe it's not meant to be helped. Maybe it's all right.

Truthfully, Matthias is no stranger to this. It's no mystery: he likes Laura. And he's gotten to like her fast, and it won't be going away anytime soon, if at all, no matter what. It will linger, it will get worse, and he's not upset about it. It's good, liking people. Even if it comes at a rush, even if he feels like someone's turned him inside out and then back again, charged up all the parts of him and then put him back together. Even when that little smile sucks all the wind out of him, diverts it to fan the flames all eating at him.

And he still has to walk with her, follow her, go to fetch food off of the lengthy sideboard where it's laid. Simple stuff, at this hour: rolls and butter, boiled eggs, skinny sausages still on their strings, cheeses. Nothing that needs to be kept particularly warm or cold, for a few hours. The sausages are the same that Matthias had taken for the griffons, still in his bag. He grabs some for himself anyways--plus three rolls, two eggs, and--after some deliberation--a great big hunk of cheese that he hacks off with a knife.]

Hungry. [--He offers as a defense, with a rueful little grin.]

[justashotaway]

[At least one of them enjoys this sensation. Or one and a half, perhaps--Laura doesn't dislike the way it feels to walk next to him and consider the plates of food laid out. But the uncertainty that comes with...that, she could gladly live without.]

Yes.

[She is not--or, at least, not by comparison--but if she does not eat, her presence will have no purpose. One roll, torn open so she can spread a thin layer of butter along its innards, is all she needs.

For a moment, she just looks at him, his rumpled hair and self-conscious smile and the long line of his neck. It feels like something is supposed to happen, something beyond taking in the angle of his jaw. And then she remembers that if she has nothing else to say--if she does, she isn't sure what--then standing there in silence will be an ineffective use of their time. He still must visit the griffons.

Which all means abruptly turning away in search of a table. You know, like normal people do.]