Everyone has their habits; one of Judeau's is to spend a large portion of his spare time outside his tent, tending to his weapons or just watching the people passing by, and that's where Corkus finds him today as well.
"Hey, you busy?" he asks, shifting the sword belt around his waist. When wearing it without the full armour it digs uncomfortably into his hip. After the next raid he should try to get a chance to go through the booty for a new one.
Judeau looks up from the piece of wood he's been carving on and moves a little to the side to make room for him on the bench.
"Not really."
"You are now." Corkus sits down, staring at his friend from under knitted brows. "I'm getting rid of Guts once and for all tonight, and I'll be counting on you to help."
He only gets a small chuckle for an answer. Because of that, and because Judeau seems to be giving his undivided attention to the piece of wood and the knife, Corkus leans a bit closer and raises his voice when speaking again. If there's one thing he hates more than Guts, it's being ignored.
"What? He's a complete bastard, I know it. If we let him stay, we get nothing but trouble Believe me."
"He doesn't seem that bad."
Corkus snorts in disbelief.
"So now you like him too?"
"It's a bit early to say. I have no reason to hate him, so I don't. And Griffith trusts him."
He has a point. Still, this time is different.
"So maybe Griffith can be wrong sometimes," he says, pretending not to notice the amused look Judeau gives him. "But are you with me or not? I'm being serious here."
Judeau shakes his head, turning the shapeless wooden figure over in his hands.
"Sorry, not this time. You'll have to ask someone else."
"I already did," Corkus mutters. "No one wanted to come."
This time Judeau really laughs at him, the sound making the group of men playing cards a few meters away turn and look at them. Corkus scowls at them, spitting on the dry ground in an attempt to look unfazed by his fellow captain's amusement.
"I'll still face him!" he adds, but gets no answer aside from another paroxysm of laughter.
Once Judeau has calmed down neither of them says anything for a while. Judeau keeps working on the piece of wood. It's beginning to take a more definite shape, even if Corkus isn't really sure what it's supposed to represent.
"What's that going to look like when it's done?" he asks, more just to break the silence than anything else.
"You."
If he was glaring at Judeau before, it's nothing against the look he gives him now.
"That's really freaky."
"You think?" Judeau holds the figure up against the clear blue sky, squinting at it. "I just figured it would be nice to have something to remember you by. Since if you go up against Guts alone, you're pretty certain to die."
Corkus swallows hard, wiping his now sweaty palms on his pants.
"Maybe I'll wait until tomorrow."
"You do that."