He grinned at her. "Me too." *** She smirked slightly, apparently amused by that. "Loony is a good word for it. Not to mean offense, but your father is a bit if a suck up, Charlie."
Her smile met her eyes and she considered him for a moment before sitting up, looking across the dark city in the night. "I should probably head home," she said after a moment. * * * He clasped his hands together and pointed at her with his conjoined fingers. "I know, right? And he's sacrificing me to do it! Me! I'm his son!"
He looked over, maybe a little worried. "Are you sure? You're welcome to stay.." He paused, realizing he was being overbearing before standing up. "Let me go get you some bandages for your legs, first." *** She looked back, her brows furrowing slightly. "I hope the consequences aren't too dire.."
She eyed him curiously, raising one eyebrow. "Why are you insistent upon taking such good care of me?" she asked, her low voice quiet. * * * "As dire as marriage? I doubt it."
He looked over at her, clearly a little surprised. "I don't mean to sound sad, but you're my only friend, Clara. I've never much interacted with other people because they run off." *** She nodded slightly. "That's true."
She blinked in surprise, sitting up on the railing and looking over at him curiously. "Run off? What do you mean?" * * * He sighed irritably before turning to her. "Want to go get some ice cream?"
He gestured to the city. "Well.. because I'm the prince. You saw." *** She tilted her head. "Ice cream?"
She considered him for a moment before shrugging almost playfully. "Well, keep bursting me out of prison, and I'll never leave your side." * * * "Yeah," he said flatly. "Ice cream."
He rolled his eyes with a grin, retrieving the bandages and offering them to her. "Just stop getting arrested." *** She looked confused. "Sure..?"
"That's a tall order," she said, beginning to wrap the bandages around her legs. "I'm very arrestable, apparently." * * * He nodded, heading for the door.
She tugged on the silk shirt. "This is nice. Is this what you wear regularly?" she asked, looking down at herself. * * * (Zoop?)
She blinked, shaking her head emphatically. "No, I can't." * * * They sat outside the ice cream shop a little while later, with Charlie pensively eating a rocky-road ice cream cone. Wren had ordered for him, but he had given her money.
He squinted. "Why not? You're wearing it." *** Wren didn't want ice cream, rather getting tea instead, which she paid for with her own money.
She gave him a small, sad smile. "Ezekiel. If they see a nomad walking around with clothing fit for royalty, the militia does not tend to believe that I received it through morally upright means." * * * "I wish you would have gotten ice cream, Wren," he complained. "I feel like a five-year-old."
He tilted his head. "How can they tell you're a nomad?" *** She smiled at him sincerely, reaching over and patting his shoulder slightly. "You've had quite the day. Would you like some of my tea?"
She laughed now, resting her head on her hand. “Look at me, Ezekiel. There’s no way I’m anything but a nomad.” *** He squinted at it. “Only if you’ll have some of the ice cream.”
He sighed, shaking his head slightly. "I wish you could say." *** She squinted in return. "Very well."
She shrugged smoothly, looking out across the city again. “Where would I even sleep? I can’t go out into the castle, remember?” *** He brightened, offering her the ice cream.
