That morning, Jarlaxle was silent. They rode at a slow pace, not particularly in any hurry to get anywhere, a change that had Artemis more relaxed than usual. He noted in the back of his mind that this was another change of mood that would have been impossible until recently.

Part of him had hoped that nothing had really changed in Aberiss. Being able to enjoy the ride through the fertile plain with the hypnotic thudding of their horses' hooves on the dirt road and the warm scent from the waving fields of lavender that grew on the side of the road made him re-evaluate his obsession with making sure he stayed the same.

It jolted through him with an unfamiliar tinge of wonder that he didn't even mind the little yellow butterfly that flew out in front of them, batting to and fro around Jarlaxle as if fascinated by the drow.

The assassin was worried when even one of the drow's little insect friends couldn't seem to cheer up the suddenly morose mercenary.

"I think it likes you," Artemis said, trying to get Jarlaxle's attention.

The drow looked around from side to side. Then he finally noticed the butterfly. "Don't be silly," he said. "It's only an insect. It's probably attracted by some pollen I picked up on my clothing yesterday from those ugly yellow flowers." Jarlaxle seemed distracted, even as he was saying it.

Artemis almost fell off his horse. The butterfly flew away. "Now you hurt its feelings," he said, only half-joking. "Ugly? Your mood is what's ugly, my friend. What's the matter? Did you sleep on a rock last night? Or has exposure to the sun finally caused your brain to spoil?"

Jarlaxle glanced at him, frowning, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. No, he thought. It couldn't be that easy. Does he not – does he honestly have so little experience that he doesn't understand – he doesn't know what he does to me? "You really don't know, do you?"

"Know?" Artemis laughed. "Do you remember a single time I would waste words? If I knew, I wouldn't bother to ask."

"It's you," Jarlaxle said, gazing at him and trying to judge his reaction. "You're the cause of this ugly mood I'm in."

"Now you blame me for everything," Artemis said. "I'm not responsible for upholding your happiness. Only children need someone else to make them happy."

He still didn't understand. Jarlaxle insisted, "It is you. Do you not understand that your words have caused me to dwell on matters of our relationship?"

"What words?" the assassin said. Now he frowned in earnest. "I don't remember saying anything you could brood over."

Dear gods, Lloth is alive and well, Jarlaxle thought, holding his head in his hands. I've been cursed. I may as well never live to see tomorrow. If I have to explain the ways of civilized social interactions to a human, the surface is doomed. "Please tell me you understand the concept that speaking carelessly can hurt countless others around you in mostly irreparable ways?"

Artemis blinked. "I suppose. But why would 'countless others' bother to listen to an assassin like me?"

"That has nothing to do with it," Jarlaxle said. "Your social status has no impact on whether or not your words will be listened to and you will be allowed to hurt others."

"Like who?"

Jarlaxle stared at him steadily. "Like me," he said. "You've hurt me. Are you satisfied? Is there anyone else you would like me to point out as a victim of your insensitive manner?"

"You?" the assassin said. He couldn't believe it. "You're invincible. You don't know the meaning of slings and arrows."

But at the look on the drow's face, Artemis saw that the only reason he had ever thought that was because it had made him feel better. It had brought him less pain to believe that Jarlaxle was too slippery, too stubborn, and too self-centered to let anyone else rain on his happiness. He didn't know how coming to that knowledge about himself was supposed to make him feel, but it made him feel empty. He wanted to retreat back into himself, the way he was before Jarlaxle started messing with him and making him say things.

Jarlaxle knew he'd gotten through the to the assassin. He didn't know what would happen next. Would Artemis change the subject, or would he remain silent and pretend as though their conversation hadn't happened? I'm not expecting an apology to come from Artemis' lips, if that's what you want, the drow told himself. He'd most likely worry about how his actions affect his own wellbeing before he considers mine.

"What's the use?" Jarlaxle said. "You're not ready for the commitment of having a pet!"

He noticed out of the corner of his eye that they were both making their horses nervous. Perceptive things. Feeling a little sorry for them, he stroked the head of his horse. He knew his words sounded harsh and bitter, but he couldn't make Artemis understand if he stuck to his routine of being the calm, unruffled one of the two.

Artemis reacted instinctively with a surge of anger at the slight. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked. If he had been thinking, he would have anticipated his request's effect. He let himself in for it.

"It means that I believe you incapable of giving up your pretense of not being able to care for anyone other than yourself in order to take care of someone or something else," Jarlaxle said, his eyes snapping coldly. "You would deny a dog food for the sake of not appearing to care about a mere beast's wellbeing even if it curled up on your feet and begged for it." His hands tightened around the reins of his horse. "How could you form a relationship with me that is any different?"

Artemis' anger recoiled, replaced by shock. "I am not treating you like a dog," he said.

"Indeed," the drow mercenary said. "Instead you are not treating me like anything. Am I wrong, or have you been attempting to forget what happened between us ever since we left that day?" This was the first time that Jarlaxle had ever really admitted to being upset by something in the assassin's presence. He didn't have to, now, but he wanted Artemis to know what it would be like if he really wanted a close relationship with anyone. "I am not going to stand by you and be abused. I am not a slave, and I am not some prisoner to be used as an outlet for your anger."

"Do you mean that you don't want a relationship with me?" the assassin asked. He stared at Jarlaxle as if trying to drill through him and find the truth.

"Would that matter to you even if I did?" Jarlaxle asked. "To the best of my recollection, when I asked you the same thing, your response was 'I'll think about it'."

"Everything has gone wrong because of one little thing that I said almost five days ago?" Artemis said, incredulous. "You can't be serious. I didn't mean that it didn't matter to me whether or not you gave a damn."

He ran a hand through his hair, deeply confused. For most of his life, he'd had to kill someone to get the point across. Usually, words were wasted on the people he kept company with. He was used to having his opinions brushed away like grains of sand. And now, one little thing that he had said in the midst of a conversation had been taken seriously and blown out of proportion.

"Then what did you mean?" Jarlaxle asked patiently.

He hadn't really meant to start an argument, after all. He'd just been trying to force his companion beyond his skewed, childlike understanding of how he affected the world around him. In a way, it worried the drow mercenary that in the front of social interaction, Artemis had assumed an attitude of helplessness. He never seemed to know what to say, and he didn't try anymore. Assuming that there was once a time that he had tried to say the right thing. If such a time had ever existed, it had clearly been a long time ago.

"I meant that you had done everything you could have, and I still wasn't sure," Artemis said. "I have been thinking about it."

What a rotten time this would be to be ambushed by bandits, he thought. They'd stand more than half a chance of carving us up in a situation like this. We're distracted, we're arguing, and it's a nice day. But then he looked around and realized again that the ground was flat for miles around. This should have comforted him, but still…

"I am comforted to hear that," Jarlaxle said, but he wasn't smiling. Even in his irritation and his stung feelings, he still wanted to let Artemis decide for himself what they were going to do about themselves.

The assassin's eyes slid away from him and focused on the dirt road and the scent of the lavender. "I have seen relationships rooted in the sexual needs of both partners, and such…behavior," he said finally, "disgusts me. I would never want that."

Jarlaxle, of course, had an opinion of the complete opposite; he believed such relationships were mostly harmless when handles correctly, and beneficial to both parties. He still respected Artemis' opinion, but he felt a little disappointed.

However, he'd always known since the two of them had met that such agreements were not in the assassin's nature. For all the time they'd traveled together, to the best of his knowledge Entreri had been completely celibate.

The drow inclined his head to show that he'd been listening, but had nothing to say.

"I have almost done that. With you. In that town we have thankfully left behind us as far away as possible," Artemis said.

Jarlaxle wanted to smack his forehead. That was why the assassin was so humiliated by their encounter. He felt stupid for having been too caught up in his own emotional turmoil to reason out the conflict the assassin had no doubt been struggling with between his lust and his ideals. "You were afraid. You didn't want it to happen again once we left the town."

Artemis nodded. He didn't want to look up.

"You feel as though you've cheapened yourself somehow to me," the drow mercenary said, concern flashing through his features.

"Let's not talk about it any more," the assassin said. He was beginning to look openly pained. "The horses need a rest. We've been riding all morning."