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“There’s you, though.”
“Sure.”
“So… we’re alone together.”
A suggestive tone Tora felt no urge to entertain.
“In the middle of a dangerous ass jungle. Can ya fuckin’ focus?!” He snapped back.
“Of course m’lady!” FPS didn’t even flinch.
And so it went. The entire day—from walking to meal breaks to setting up camp for the night, an entire day of FPS attempting to flirt with everything that breathed while Tora fought his inner demons. By the end of it, he was exhausted and debating what was worse: prying Trip away from trying to kiss yet another tree, or stopping himself from destroying that same tree when he swore he saw the eyes of someone long dead behind it.
They set up that night in a cave, huddled around a fire as a fine drizzle started outside. Tora checked their map—they were less than a day away from Rakak’s if the postal worker was to be believed. FPS made a few more attempts to flirt while the thief worked. He ignored them, packed up the map, and went about getting ready for sleep as far from FPS as he reasonably could.
“Won’t you be cold there?” FPS frowned. Tora had set up near the very edge of the cave mouth.
“It’s fine.” Thick droplets hit his shoulder. The rain got more violent. “I’ve slept through worse.” He wasn’t even lying, really.
“Nonsense. Come back to the fire. Why you can sleep next to me, we can keep each other warm with our bo—” Tora glared. “—okay.”
“Well at the very least, just come back to the fire?” The tree man tried again more delicately. “It’s truly not fit for a lady to—”
“Wow no, NO, holy shit I’m done!” Tora snapped. “What is yer damn deal?!”
“My deal…?”
“Lady this! Lady that! Why the fuck are ya so obsessed with hot ladies?!”
“Hm?” FPS looked only mildly perplexed. “I told you already, didn’t I? My lady of destiny? Wyld Hunt? Pretty sure I said all that when we first met.”
There was a pause. Tora could sorta maybe kind of remember him saying something about that…? Actually, no, he really couldn’t. All he remembered was trying to find his gun and the amulet and wishing he’d worn something with pockets.
“Sure, yeah, ‘course I remember.” He did not. “Remind me again real quick though?”
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