Disclaimer: I own nothing of Strange Magic. All belongs to George Lucas and the affiliated parties.

I only claim the storyline and OCs.

TRIGGER WARNING: Reflecting on attempted suicide and suicidal thoughts.

Chapter 16

The sounds of boot heels hitting rock echoed off the walls as the Green Meadows guard escorted the Misty Rivers crown prince. Cole was hardly surprised. In fact, he had been expecting this to happen sooner.

Dagda was requesting his presence.

He was undoubtedly going to interrogate him, in the kindest sense of the act. Likely was going to try to approach him as the concerned family friend-almost uncle, that he was and plead with him to spill his heart about what was going on.

It would not work.

That was what he kept telling himself anyway, expression schooled into a stoic mask, obediently following the path to Dagda's private office. He doesn't need to know. Not yet. He's been through his own hell. He can wait this out, no matter his worry.

But did you see him?

Memory of the older king, standing in front of the door to the guest chambers, looking damnear recovered to past form, wafted behind his open eyes. And? He's doing better for himself. That's good. All the better for when we do need his assistance, he told himself. He'll be ready. Cole could not help a minute smirk. He was already gnawing at the bit as it was. He once again relished the exchange between Dagda and Cerian, far more delighted than the older king would ever know that he had spoken down so eloquently to that dog of a man. Oh yes, he'll be ready. He'll just have to show a little patience.

Cole took a deep breath as the neared the door, dropping his face back into its mask. He glanced to see Rex looking directly at him. He inclined his head, never leaving eye-contact. "Good day, Rex. I do hope the day fares you well," he said amiably.

Rex nodded at the address, his own face expressionless. "Well enough, your highness." With that, Rex remained motionless, simply staring. The members of the guard remained motionless as well, waiting.

Cole never broke their gaze, though he found it amusing that Rex was being so blatant. Dagda looking through his eyes no doubt, he mused. No sooner had the thought occurred to him did Rex look away, nodding to the guards.

"You're staying out here with me. Stand aside."

He raised a brow at that. He had not expected Dagda would want to speak one-on-one with him.

The Green Meadows guard did as ordered, and Rex opened the door, stepping to the side as he nodded his head. "Your highness."

Cole nodded back. "Captain." He wasted no more time, breaching the doorway to the office. The first thing that caught his attention was how chilled it seemed to be in the room, eyes darting to the unlit fireplace. The Green Meadows castle was similar to the mountain monolith that was his own home, the internal rock structures providing cooler air in the summer and warmer air in the winter. Though, Dagda usually kept his fireplace going like a bad habit, so to see it dark and cold was somewhat of a surprise. When his eyes darted to the head of the room, however, was when real surprise shimmied down his neck.

Dagda was leaning against his desk, arms crossed as he stared at him, books, scrolls and paperwork piled up behind him to stifle what little light emanated from the waning daylight and the wall sconces mounted at the window frame in the wall. As the door to the office shut quietly, Cole managed a slight rustle of his wings as he took in the imposing sight of the older king backlit and glaring. Not quite what he had expected, if he were honest with himself. But then again, he had grown rather accustomed to the shell of a man the King of Fire had become.

Good to see how far back you've come, Uncle.

But…

"Hello, Cole."

He inclined his head. "Your majesty," he said amiably, clasping his hands behind his back. "How fares the evening for you so far?"

Dagda was quiet a moment. "Could be better," he answered simply.

A slight twitch of his brow escaped his control. "So it seems," he responded, glancing to the documents on the desk top.

"Cole. Enough is enough."

He froze, even the air halting in his lungs. Is that so, Uncle? He tilted his head. "Oh?" He returned his crystalline gaze to the burning emeralds of the other, forcing a breath through his nose. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," Dagda asserted, standing from his leaning position but remaining stationary. "I know you haven't been forthcoming, both in writing for your father and in things you've spoken to me." Dagda's stern gaze softened a fraction. "Cole. What is going on?"

Well, now. What do you really know, I wonder, that you have to ask at all? Cole took a deep breath. "I don't know what you're talking about, Uncle," he lied smoothly.

Dagda was not so easily convinced, it seemed. "Don't, Cole. Your discussion with the Bog King, the missing information in the letters, avoiding the subject of your father, and now this attempt on the Dark Forest." Dagda shook his head. "Just tell me what's going on, Cole. I can't help if I don't know."

Of course, he told him. Cole worked to keep his face smooth, barely a hitch of a movement escaping his control. No matter. Clearly, he hasn't picked up on the importance of it, else he wouldn't be asking. "I don't know what you expect, King Dagda," he said. "I am just as confused as you are by all this."

Dagda narrowed his eyes.

Really? You would throw your suspicion at me? Incredulity colored his thoughts and Cole tilted his head.

"Cole, what's happened to your father?"

He remained motionless for a moment, refusing to break the older king's gaze. He straightened, squaring his shoulders. "My-" His voice fell short.

My father… The words rolled around in his head, wafting around like smoke in a breeze. Now that is interesting. If the Kings of Fire and Ice are so close that he thinks he knows something is so wrong, then why would he…

Well, well. What do we have here? So omniscient you like to act, old Dagda. And yet, you are so clearly blind.

"Cole?"

He blinked and noticed Dagda's mask of suspicion had cracked, concern melting through his expression.

How insulting.

He heaved a sigh, clenching his fists where they rested behind his back. "My father is just fine, your majesty. As I said, he is simply attending to a border dispute. Nothing nearly as problematic as the situation we seem to have at present."

Dagda reacted as expected, his mask hardening, that concern slipping away.

What do you know now, eh?

"Are you really doing this, Cole? Are you really going to keep me in the dark?"

Clearly. "I don't know what you're talking about, your majesty," Cole answered, voice velvety as he retained a pleasant expression.

There were a few moments of silence, the air between them heavy with unspoken words. Finally, Dagda nodded, the office door opening right on que. "Then you may go, Prince Cole," he older king said tightly.

Cole inclined his head. "As you wish, King Dagda." He said nothing more as he turned on his heel, fists still clenched behind him as he walked back to the waiting castle guard.

'How pathetic,' Ta'Kheta chimed melodically out of the reaches of their link.

'It's fine. All in due time,' Cole asserted. 'He'll come around.'

'You think?' Ta'Kheta questioned nonchalantly. 'Do you think it would even be worth it?'

'Right now?' His fists tightened behind his wings. 'No,' he answered honestly, his anger at Dagda's ignorance melting into the connection.

'Then why ever?'

Cole took a deep breath as he followed the guards obediently. 'He has done much… in the past. And he is recovering from himself it would seem. Perhaps he is not a lost cause.'

'If you say so, my prince,' came the dubious reply.

Dagda watched through Rex's narrowed eyes as the prince was led down the hall by his men. He observed the overly fluid gait coupled with the tense posture of the younger man's back, shoulders and wings. I can't believe it.

'What?' Rex asked. 'He's as stubborn as his father, you know that.'

'No.' Dagda pulled back, Rex's vision clearing from his mind's eye. 'No, this is much worse than I thought,' he answered, turning to his desk.

'In what way?'

He rested one hand at his hip while the other covered his mouth. "Are you serious, Rex?" he asked aloud, listening to his captain enter the room and close the door behind him.

"I know I like a good joke, but now isn't the time for humor," Rex shot back with uncharacteristic sharpness.

"There's someone in his head!" Dagda whipped around leveling a glare. "You were watching, did you not see the signs?"

Rex glanced away, disquiet overtaking his expression as he paused his steps. "You know how serious it is to make an accusation of manipulation," he said, shaking his head. "How can you be so sure?" he asked, looking back.

Dagda could have pulled his hair out. "Rex! The twitching, the blank gaze, the facial tics, the-the long pauses!" He clawed his hands into the air helplessly. "Even the way he's walking and holding himself- it's all symptomatic, and you know it!"

"Those can be symptoms an overextended mind-link, yes, but who would dare do such a thing to the crown prince?" Rex asked, with a shrug. "I mean, certainly not one of the council, right? And if not one of them, then who would have a motive?"

Dagda took a breath and paused, eyeing the floor, his desk, the cabinets across the room, as if an answer would appear miraculously simply by looking for it. "I… I don't know, but-"

"But this is a stressful time for all of us right now," Rex cut in, continuing his trek across the room. "I would say Cole has reason to be rather twitchy, wouldn't you?"

"Why wouldn't he just answer my question?" he asserted, fisting his hands at his sides. "It was point plank, there was no room or reason for dodging."

"He did technically answer you," Rex said, stopping in front of Dagda and crossing his arms. "It's just the same thing he's already said."

"And we know that's a lie," he grated through clenched teeth.

Rex' face contorted. "We don't know that yet, majesty," he countered in a softer tone. "You haven't even sent a scout to try to cross the border-"
"Because you know just as well as I do that there is no reason my message wouldn't have gotten through to Onyx," he said, slicing the air with his hand. "Whether the dagger fly was stopped in transit or someone else received it and could not understand the meaning, you know something is deeply wrong with that," he insisted.

Rex looked away and heaved a sigh. "You're right about that, but Cole doesn't even know we tried that route." He looked back to his king sternly. "You didn't tell him."

"I don't need to say a word to him about my methods to know that he is, in one way or another, confident that I'll not find out what's going on," Dagda rattled. He turned back to the desk, wings shifting restlessly behind him as he leaned against it, gripping the edges tightly. "You were watching, Rex. Are you really denying what you saw?"

"I know what I saw, but I know we need more to confidently suggest it's what you think."

"The evidence is mounting higher and higher by the hour-"

"Are you sure about that?"

"Rex-"

"Dagda!"

He stopped short at the use of his name, looking to his captain with a jolt. He could just barely feel the concern that was so blatantly coloring the other man's face. Quite suddenly, he was at a loss for words, seeing and feeling the worry from his captain and friend. He took a deep breath, looking away to hang his head. "Rex. I-"

"Might be chasing shadows."

He closed himself off, not wanting Rex to the feel the incredulity swirling to the surface at his statement. He knew the action itself spoke louder, but he did not need to feel the impact. Or what he could clearly hear and see. "But, what if I'm not?" he managed. He listened, hearing Rex' armor move against itself as he stepped closer, feeling the hand close over his shoulder.

"Dagda, when was the last time you ate anything? Drank anything other than the coffee you had this morning with Sunny? And you can't tell me you've been getting any appropriate length of sleep since this whole thing began because we both know that I know better."

He closed his eyes tightly. "I'm not losing my mind, Rex. If we both know what you know, then you know that much."

"You're right. You haven't lost your mind. On the contrary, I think you've been thinking far clearer these last months than you have in a long time, and I've said as much," Rex said, squeezing tighter. "But… but this seems a bit much, don't you think? It's like you're chasing nightmares from the past. I know…" Rex let out a sigh. "I know what you are thinking here. And I know it makes a sort of sense. But does it really?"

Dagda opened his eyes, the grey of the rock floor as bleak as his unspoken concerns. He looked up, knowing that Rex was following his gaze to the piles of paperwork that had overtaken his desk.

"We have to go with the evidence that we have at this very moment," Rex asserted. "And all we have right now is an eyewitness account that someone, possibly the Misty Rivers Council, wants the Bog King dead; You cannot contact Onyx, and possibly have been out of contact with Onyx for months; and Cole knows more than he's saying, and possibly has a counter plan to the council given his conversation with Bog," Rex summarized. He then raised a brow. "And then there's that whole relation thing. That I guess we do know for sure- but even if we take that as fact, questionable as it is, that's a whole lot of 'possibles' and not a whole lot of concrete," he said. He lifted his other hand, gesturing to the papers. "And on top of this already convoluted situation, you're adding this? How would that even play in?" Rex asked, almost desperately.

Dagda felt his brows drawing down as he clenched his teeth tightly. He did not have a real answer. All he had was his conviction and a smattering of circumstantial evidence that seemed to fit so perfectly. "I'm going through everything I can find because I want to disprove what I think," he said. "I don't know how this would play in and I don't want it to."

"Sire, I think you need a break."

"I can't afford to-"

"I'm not saying to stop investigating this avenue-"

"Why do you keep interrupting-"

"Because you need someone to look after you and Onyx ain't here to bully you into it."

Both of them froze.

The statement hurt more than intended, both to hear it and having said it.

Rex took a deep breath, squeezing his hand once again over Dagda's shoulder. "Please, your majesty. Just walk away from this for a little while. Eat something, anything. Drink some water, or tea- maybe snap tea. Light the damn fireplace because it's cold in here despite the swelter outside," he said, a smidge of humor working its way into his voice. "Just take a break. Clear your head. Then come back with a fresh mind."

Dagda heaved a sigh, closing his eyes once more. He could not deny the caring that motivated Rex' words, even with their link dulled. Nor could he pretend Rex did not have a point. Suddenly feeling heavy and light at the same time, recognizing the abrupt feeling of unfueled overexertion, he knew he needed to take his captain's advice.

"Alright. Light the fire, would you?"

"Sure thing, sire."

xXx

Sunny took a deep breath and blew it out heavily.

"You doing okay back there, bud?" Pare asked, angling his head from his position in the saddle.

"Yup, all good, my man," Sunny said, though he could feel the tired in his voice. He then stiffened lightly as long, slender arms wrapped around his middle.

"It's been a long day," Dawn conceded, maneuvering her chin over his hair before resting it to the top of his head.

"Yeah," he agreed, leaning back into her. "Thanks for helping again, Pare," he said as he instinctively wrapped his smaller arms over Dawn's and squeezed.

"No problem," Pare said, waving a hand over his shoulder. "It's the least I can do."

The group continued on in silence atop Lizzy as she strolled along, even the lizard moving slowly as if the day's travels had taken a toll on her. The sun was low, coloring the sky with lovely pinks and oranges. Sunny observed it quietly, enjoying the view as he and Dawn swayed back and forth in the saddle behind Pare. His thoughts abruptly backtracked to the sweet, loving fairy holding him from behind, her wings the same beautiful colors the sun threw into the sky. Funny how she's named for the sunrise, but she's colored like the sunset, he thought. His hands squeezed tighter reflexively as his mind wandered to the concerns they had just spent most of the day warning the people about.

The elf villages, the brownie burrows, and the multitude of fairy families spread about the land all met their words with questions and worry. He had done his best to use careful language, not give away too much of their speculation, their knowledge about the danger to Bog, or give too much of an impression of how clueless they really were. And wherever he lost a footing in his speech, Dawn picked right up behind him. Between her sweetness and his plain, upfront approach they had managed to relay the warning and suggestion for preparedness in a sensible manner. Thankfully, no one had panicked.

He was sure to have all the exact some questions to answer once they got to his home. But at least he had Dawn with him. Sunny smiled lightly, feeling Dawn lulling lightly with the back-and-forth motion of Lizzy underneath them. "Thanks for helping me out today, Dawn."

"Of course," she came back sleepily. "I can be useful too, you know."

His brows immediately furrowed at that. He took a breath to respond when Pare suddenly chimed in from the front.

"You two need anything in town?"

"Uuuuh," Sunny blinked, at a loss for words.

"I don't think so," Dawn answered for him. "We packed pretty good."

"Yeah, what she said," Sunny added.

Pare chuckled. "Gotcha. Don't fall asleep back there. I'm not responsible if you two fall off."

Sunny grinned, both at Pare's words and Dawn's giggle behind him. "Yeah, yeah."

He readjusted his grip on Dawn's arms, her words echoing through his head. He took a deep breath. Of course, you're useful, he thought. He bit the inside of his lip. A tune came to mind and he started humming.

Dawn giggled again. "Sunny, I love you," she murmured.

He smiled wider, keeping his lips closed to hum the song he always sang to her, and himself, when feeling down. "I love you too," he whispered back before continuing the sweet melody.

xXx

It was cooler in the forest than in the fields. The colors of the sky so visible in the fields were barely glimpsed through the canopy of the trees and the cover of the leaves over the horizon. The trees, however, painted their own pictures. From brilliant greens, to faded browns, smooth surfaced leaves and textured trunks, greys, greens and browns of the moss and lichen sprouting in places just so, like flowers in the field. The cover of the ferns and foliage of the ground, the brush and thorns that partnered it so naturally.

Roland took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he leaned against the rail of one of the third-floor flight balconies. How had he not seen it? The innate, simple, beauty of this place.

Because beauty was polished metal, expensive clothes, perfectly coifed hair and flawless skin, he answered himself, feeling a glare mar his features. Without thinking, a hand raised to his face, fingers brushing against patchy stubble of a length that had never before graced his face. He heaved a sigh, letting his head hang, running his hand into his hair – longer than he'd ever had it, and certainly not as clean considering his previous living arrangement.

Why am I here? He stared at the gnarled wood of the rail, tracing the lines of the somewhat shaved down bark. I've done what I meant to do. They don't want me here, now that it's done. Should I just… leave? Emerald orbs flashed behind his open eyes and he jolted, gripping the rail tight. The phantom sensation of Dagda's presence in his mind floated through him and he shivered. Dammit, Roland clenched his eyes tight. Why… why are you… so… why would you give me-

"Oi, goldy."

Roland could not have stopped his jump into the air even had he been chained to the floor. He turned, bashing his wings into the railing and nearly falling forward onto the floor. Only to have two long, silver chitin plated arms catch him by the shoulders.

"Ay, no need ta lose ye're shit."

Roland looked up with a start, Chae's pale, silvery-skinned face dominating his vision but her almond eyes, bright brown with green rings along the outer edges, stealing his attention. "Uh… right. Right," he said, biting his lip and jolting backward, bashing his wings against the rail once more. "Damn!" he hissed, averting his eyes. He flicked his wings lightly, trying to shake away the ache.

"Ye a'rite there?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I-I just was surprised, that's all," Roland sputtered, still keeping his face angled to the floor. "I would have thought, you know, maybe, the guards would have said something." His voice trickled into a mumble as he spontaneously remembered his previous thoughts. Couldn't have gone anywhere anyway, I suppose.

"Ah, right. Quiet lot," she said distractedly.

He looked up to see her closing the distance to the rail, leaning against it as he had to look out at the view. He swallowed his nerves, unsure what really he was so nervous about, turning back around to look out once more himself.

"You smoke?"

Roland looked to her with a start, biting back aggravation at his own jumpiness. "Wh- no, no. I mean, I don't mind it, but I don't," he answered looking away quickly to hide his sour expression. Get ahold of yourself!

"Well, tha's good."

"Why's that?" he managed with a straight voice.

"I'as gonna anyway."

He whipped his head around to see she had already pulled her dulled, dark leather wrap around bag to the front of her, working at the tie. "Ah. Right. Gotcha." Well, that sounded intelligent, he harped at himself. He then forgot his self-annoyance as he watched her pull out a pipe, slightly too large for her hand, made of warm brown wood and carved with what he recognized to be Dark Forest script but of a dialect he could not read. She proceeded to pull out a tamper, looking homemade, possibly by taking a metal nail and heating the pointed end so it could be beaten into a scoop. He watched her scrape the bowl casually, doing so with the ease of having performed the same task many times before. She then fished out the tobacco pouch, soft swede leather, but clearly treated to keep moisture out. Before he had realized it, he had leaned further against the rail, resting an elbow to the surface and resting his jaw in his hand, observing with rapt attention how naturally the actions seemed to come to her. Part of him wanted to ask how she managed with her clawed fingers, watching as she pinched out the tobacco shreds with no difficulty and placed them into the bowl, using the tamper to pack them in tight. She repeated the filling twice more, packing the second and third pinches looser each time. She then put the tobacco pouch and tamper away with one hand and drew the same hand back with two matches between her fingers.

"Ye ne'er seen any'n do this before?" she asked without looking at him, putting the mouth if the pipe to her lips as she struck the first match to the wrist scale of the hand holding it.

Roland could not keep from staring as the small flame illuminated her face in the dark that had rapidly descended upon them without his notice. "I, uh... it's been a while since I've seen." Watched was more like it, though he did not want to come across as creepy. He had seen others clean and pack their pipes before, however the Larkspur boy was never to be seen smoking or around others who did. So, he had only ever observed so closely once in his memory. Well, now I really do feel creepy, he thought dejectedly, looking away.

"I can teach ye, if ye want."

His eyes shot back to her, watching as she sucked air in through her lips tightly closed around the pipe mouth, the leaves in the bowl flaring a brilliant red. She did so several times, more and more of the leaves glowing red as she sucked the flame of the match into the bowl.

He could not help but notice how the red lit up her face, her eyes seeming to glow with the vibrance of the embers. He swallowed those nerves that refused to stay away, averting his gaze. "Maybe someday," he mumbled, making a point to look out to the darkened forest.

"Hmm."

He bit the inside of his lip at the tone of her little noise. It held in it all the weight of things unsaid.

She had questions.

He could imagine any number of things they could pertain to, but he was sure they had nothing to do with his strange comments about smoking. He briefly examined his behavior and words over the last few minutes and mentally kicked himself. I'm such an idiot-

"So, why d'people like ta hit ye?"

Roland froze. His thoughts raced, trying to come up with some sort of excuse, backtrack with a funny comment about being too close to someone with sharp instincts, ask why she would think it was anything more than an accident. But he knew he was given already, with his stillness and silence that was stretching seconds too long. He finally gave up, the wheels falling off his mental wagon as he forced air into his lungs and hung his head. What does it matter? "I did something bad. To both of them." He was not sure she knew Marianne had hit him, but considering her mention of people, not Bog particularly, he was sure Chae had already made some sort of assumption. He listened to her shift her weight, her forearm scales scraping against the rail as she leaned on it. He took another deep breath, the smooth, yest musky scent of the tobacco smoke filling his nose. He waited, eyes glued to the dark navy, indigo, purple and black patchwork of the forest.

"If ye did sumth'n bad, why're ye 'ere?"

He huffed. Why am I having this conversation? he asked himself. He did not walk away, however. He did not roll his eyes, he did not groan. Roland instead found himself mimicking her posture, clasping his hands in front of him as he rested his weight onto his arms. "I… wanted to try to make it better. Make up for it. Kinda." Even his former gumption for berating himself for such poor speech had dissipated. Instead, his inner self had gone strangely quiet, as if waiting with bated breath for the next question.

He did not have to wait long.

"Ye don' seem too 'appy with yerself, do'n this 'mak'n up fer it' stuff."

It was not a question. But there was question in the statement. He chewed on his lip. His now quiet mind providing no help with how to respond. "Should I be?" he asked suddenly. "I mean," he looked at his fingers, clenching them tightly, "yeah, I… I did this because I wanted to… do some good, what little I could, for what I did. But It doesn't change anything." He felt his face mar. "I still did what I did. I still have the mark to prove it. I can't take that back and we can't pretend it didn't happen. I can't… I can't make it like it never happened. It'll always be there," he finished in a whisper.

"Yeh. Sure will."

He blinked. The nonchalant answer caught him off guard. He looked up tentatively, spying Chae looking out at the scenery, dragging slowly on the pipe, the red glow illuminating her face in the dark.

"Cannae change wha'appened. Can only move on from it," she said, smoke billowing from her mouth and nose as she spoke. Then, those light brown eyes ringed in green were on him, his own trapped in her gaze. "Ye dwell on it, ye die. An' maybe I'm wrong," she looked back to the forest, "but ye don'seem the die'n type."

Silence reigned.

He stared at her for a moment before looking back, now blind to the view as her words sunk in. His eyes saw instead that night, the memory still raw in his mind. How he had cried, shook and stared at the blade against his skin, watching the small red drop forming at the end. How he had remained frozen, unmoving save for the shivering sobs that had riddled his form.

Even before he had heard the whispered words to the side, he had been unable to plunge the blade any deeper.

"Ye're naw a coward."

He remained still. As still as that night. But this time, the air was warm, and instead of damp mist, a pleasant smoke filled the air.

He jolted lightly as a sharp thud reverberated next to his arm. He looked to see her right forearm, now with the inner fair flesh of her skin turned up, laying against the rail next to his own. There were several small, nearly white marks on the surface, about a handbreadth up from her wrist. Somehow, without looking or thinking, he knew.

Those were marks from her own claws.

"Ne'er really tried. But I thaw' abou'it," she said, that nonchalance still coloring her voice. "I'm still 'ere, tho'." She withdrew her arm and retook her position. "An' so'er you."

Roland looked up to the woman next to him, just barely a year older than him. She exuded a calmness at that moment as she simply examined the scenery in front of them, puffing on her pipe. Her silver chitin and hair seemed to gleam in the dark, the red of the pipe's embers continually flaring across her front.

She shifted her eyes to him once again and smirked. "An' since we're still 'ere, we got lots teh do, eh, goldy?"

His back went stiff as his blooming awe fizzled in the wake of instant indignation. "Why are you calling me goldy!?" he shot without thinking.

Chae grinned. "Ye're fringe, o'course!" she chided, her hand already in his hair and ruffling the aforementioned locks before he could stop her.

"Pfft- yeah?" He ducked out from under her clawed grip and flared his wings. "Well, what if I call you- you- silver..eey…" He cringed as he faltered.

"HA! Ye're gonna 'ave teh do be'er than that!" She shifted, sharp-toothed grin still plastered to her face as she leaned backward against the rail, crossing one leg over the other.

A smile broke out on his face unbidden and he waved his finger at her. "Oh, you gimme a minute, I'll figure something out!"

She let out another laugh, grin disappearing for only a moment as she took another long drag of her pipe. "Oh, we 'ave all th'time in th'world, goldy," she said, smoke following the words out of her mouth.

Roland let out a laugh as well, his smile turning into a timid grin.

"Yeah… yeah, I guess we do."

Thank you for the read. Have a good day or night and a wonderful time~*