"I have a bed," he said brightly, looking over at it before gesturing to the blankets and pillows on the floor. "I usually sleep there, though." *** She took it, giving him the tea.
She blinked, looking down at the almost fort like set of pillows of blankets on the floor. “Hm. Okay, then. Let’s sleep there.” *** He took a tentative sip and glowered. “That’s not nearly as good.”
“Sure,” she said with a shrug. “My family can think that I was in prison for one more night.” *** “Exactly. Take your tea back.”
I appreciate you staying," he told her, sitting on the pillows. "It makes me feel less worried." *** She took it back, offering the ice cream.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” she said quietly, her brows furrowed. “Believe it or not, but I’m pretty self-reliant.” *** He took the ice cream protectively, squinting at her.
"Right," he said. "But I did just rescue you from the dungeon." *** She smirked. "You agreed to the deal."
“You did,” she agreed with a small sigh. “I regret that you had to. I’m normally much more careful.” *** “I’m sad,” he grumbled at her. “Let me be sad.”
He leaned back thoughtfully. "I don't doubt that." *** She nodded slightly, setting down her tea. "Alright."
She sat down in the pillows uncertainly. “Aren’t you worried?” she asked. “They could catch us.” *** He was silent for a moment. “God. I can’t marry her, Wren.”
"No, not really," he said easily. "They hardly check on me. Plus the door is locked." *** She folded her hands with a frown. "I know."
She hesitated before leaning back in the pillows uncertainly. "Your dwellings are very comfortable," she said slowly. * * * "What am I going to do? I can't believe my lack of faith gets her going."
He stretched out slowly. "Thanks, I think?" *** She shook her head. "This is.. A bit more absurd than usual."
"Incredibly," she replied with a small laugh. "I normally sleep in cots and you're here with your silk pillows and blankets. It's just a culture shock." * * * "She's insane and I'm supposed to marry her. I don't know what my father is thinking."
"It is," she said slowly, looking down at the pillows before looking up at him. "And yet you choose to sleep on the floor. I wonder why." * * * "What should I do? Do I run away?"
He stuck his tongue out at her playfully. "It's comfortable." *** Her eyes widened slightly and she shook her head. "What? No. They can't force you to do anything anyways."
"Maybe it's a metaphor," she said tiredly, leaning on her hand. "Maybe you don't want the comfort of your life as much as you think you do." * * * "Oh, you think?" he asked, laughing sadly. "They hold my entire life, Wren. They could make me do it."
