Chapter Seventeen:
Laughs
Notes: A lighter point in the story to break up the tension from the last few chapters.
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"Oh god…look at this fucking clown."
-Columbus, "Zombieland"
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The coming days were sluggish, but they came and went all the same. Four years almost to the day came and went as well, and without fanfare. Next thing he knew, he was twenty years old and it was Christmas Day. It felt surreal to roll that around in his head. Ash didn't seem to notice anything was amiss. Not that she would; he hadn't said anything to her, nothing about the holidays nor about his birthday sharing that same date. She barely had a care for the passage of time for herself, other than to keep vague track of the nights of the full moon. She already did that by checking the skies outside every night, regardless. A calendar was next to useless to her.
And yet…
He couldn't help but feel things were…different somehow.
Maybe it was because it was colder than usual outside, almost freezing even. He didn't want to step back outside if he didn't have to. The warmth of the hearth was enough to keep him inside, but if it began to snow, he'd want to see that. He loved watching it fall, quietly marking its place in the world where it fell.
Or maybe things felt different because of the extra food being cooked. Although, that couldn't really be it. Ash sometimes did that; they'd come back from a hunt, have so much left over, that she'd end up cooking it all at once and they'd both gorge themselves until full for days. Somehow, Ash had a bigger appetite than him. He did not believe that to ever happen, for anyone to ever out-eat him, but apparently it was a thing now. She claimed she was always hungry, that werewolves as a whole were like that. He wasn't inclined to disagree.
Maybe it was the tiny pine tree sitting off to the side, near the wall with the attractive skulls hanging above it. The tree was a little on the scruffy side, but with the carved decorations and pieces of shiny metal hanging off its boughs, it helped distract from that oversight and—
Allen stopped dead in his tracks and he stared long and hard at the tree.
Not just any tree.
A Christmas tree.
Okay, fine, it wasn't an actual traditional Christmas tree. It wasn't the right kind, but it was a close enough one and it was right in front of him. The entire chamber smelled of wood smoke and cooked spiced meats and pine sap and it was all a heady, delicious combination. There were even presents under the tree and they were wrapped up, too.
He ventured closer, his breath coming in small, disbelieving shudders as he reached out to touch one of the decorations. It looked almost like a Dilo, with its neck frills splayed out and jaws gaping open…
"Sorry they aren't very pretty," Ash said behind him. He whirled on his heel, his heart pounding as he nearly fell backwards into the tree. Ash caught his flailing arm and pulled him upright before he could with effortless ease. She released his hand when he regained his footing and scratched the back of her head. "I didn't have time to paint all of them. I kind of decided to do this last minute, so…it's not all that great—"
"No, no, no! This—this is wonderful! Really, it's fantastic! I didn't even—just, wow!"
He turned to gaze up and down the tree again, his eyes alight. He caught glimpses of intricately designed snowflakes repurposed out of metal detritus, and predictably, dinosaur carvings were littering the boughs of the tree. Some were painted. Others were still roughened shapes that vaguely resembled the creatures that inhabited the island. But, they were recognizable all the same. And at the top of the tree—
"Timcanpy?!"
There, curled around the top of the tree was the little golem, but it wasn't moving. It dawned on him that it was just another carving and one of the few that had been painted. He briefly wondered where she had gotten the paint.
"You…mentioned a golem. With wings and tiny horns and stuff. I don't know if I got him right, so it's probably not perfect. You didn't describe him in great detail, so I tried to work with what I had and—and you're crying. I…did I do something wrong—oh Jesus!"
There was a hint of distress leaking into her voice and she just barely brushed the tips of her fingers on his arm when he had turned to swooped her into a crushing hug.
"No, it's fine, it's perfect—it's perfect, really! It's a wonderful birthday present!"
"Wait, wait, wait…birthday? I thought this was Christmas? Did I miss something? Did I get the dates wrong? It's supposed to be Christmas, right?"
"It's both, for me. Christmas and birthday," Allen explained before he paused, realizing he'd swept the werewolf, quite literally, off her feet to hug her. Gently he put her back on the ground. Was she shorter than usual, or was he just taller?
"I never told you, have I? My father, he adopted me on Christmas. I never knew my birthday, so we always celebrated both."
"Ah. Explanations. I like those. So, I guess…happy birthday and Happy Christmas? …please, stop crying. I'm getting…twitchy, like I did something wrong. Stop. St-stop crying. Oh god, what do I do?"
"You didn't do anything wrong, you—I couldn't have asked for this. This is truly amazing."
"You didn't ask. I just did it," she replied with a shrug. "I already missed the last three you were here…I thought I'd make it up."
"But why now?" He wiped at the corners of his eyes, smearing tears across his skin.
When she grinned, it was like she had a secret she wasn't quite ready to give up.
"I'll answer that question with my own question: why not?" Then she winked and motioned for him toward the tree. "Go. Go on. Presents, shoo. Go. Now."
"I wish I'd known you were doing this. I would have tried to get you something."
"Naaaaah, I don't need anything. Oh," she snapped her fingers. "How old are you, by the way? I…just realized, four years later, that I still have no clue."
Ash smiled rather sheepishly at him. He supposed he could forgive her for the oversight. He had never told her and she had never really asked.
"Twenty." The word rolled off his tongue and it felt so foreign that he was dazed at the revelation himself all over again. "I'm…I'm twenty."
"Wow. One more year, and in America, you'd be of legal age to drink. If they haven't changed the laws by now, a few hundred years later. Beers next year? Pretty sure I can whip some up. Or maybe some whiskey. I'd offer my moonshine, but I think it'd burn a hole in your stomach."
She grinned broadly and he could only feel sick at the mention of beer. Her smile dropped rather quickly. "I'm…I'm going to go ahead and guess, judging by the look on your face, no beers."
He nodded, feeling queasy. "I've had a rather…bad experience linked to alcohol."
"What'd you do, drink some liquor and trash someplace in a drunken rage? I'd pay to see that," she joked.
He shook his head.
"No. Much worse. And it involved quite a bit that I'm not going to repeat because I barely remember myself."
"Ohhhh…okay. So, no alcohol for you, like, ever?"
"If you can help it."
"…you're a lightweight, aren't you?" She was grinning wickedly at him again.
"Stop that."
"Oh-ho-ho, you are!" She was laughing at him now. He glowered from the corner of his eye at her, already feeling a blush creeping up his neck and to his cheeks.
"It's not funny."
"Yeah, it is! I wanna see drunk Allen; that sounds fun, all right!"
"You're terrible!"
"No, I'm not! You're too uptight, trying to maintain that chivalric, gentleman-like attitude and it's bullshit, okay? Drop the act, live a little! Next year, rounds are on me!"
"Ugh, please no. I'd really rather not…"
"Too late! I've got it planned, all up here!" She tapped the side of her temple.
Suddenly, Allen didn't look forward to next year. He dreaded it, very much so indeed.
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He didn't know how she had done it, but she managed to move off the topic of 'Operation Drunk Allen', as she so lovingly called it. He'd have a whole year to sabotage the idea, though, so he decided to maybe not worry too much about it so early on.
The evening pressed onwards, and when they finished up the food—he was right, she had cooked quite a lot, and somehow, yet again, managed to eat just a little more than he—she moved him over to the presents.
"No buts, just…go. Go, go, go. Enjoy. I don't want to hear anything about me, nothing. Nada, zip, zilch, I don't need anything, at all. Ever. This is for you."
He was a little disheartened that she didn't want to be included, but nonetheless, he dove in and grabbed the first, most obvious and conspicuously-shaped present from under the tree: a bow.
The paper it was wrapped in was very old, delicate, and yellowed and it tore easily under his fingers. He was almost expecting a gag gift of some sort—perhaps a bundle of sticks twined together, like his first bow had once been.
Instead, it was anything but. Dark wood and springy to the pull, and there were carvings etched in the bow's arms. The wood itself had been sanded down, polished to a shine and smoothed completely. The handle had grooves perfect for his grip and when he tested it, he had a better reach.
"I adjusted the bowstring to accommodate your longer reach. That way, you don't stress the bow by pulling back further than it needs to go, but you also don't sacrifice draw and firepower when you release. It was…tricky. Achievable, but tricky." He faintly nodded, touching the etchings in the wood faintly. His eyes were hot and itchy again. Ash stirred beside him.
"Oh…you're gonna cry again, aren't you? And yep, they're off, the waterworks and—you, you want to hug me again, don't you?"
"What do you expect me to do, when you're actually being nice to me?"
"Erm…a firm handshake and an optional pat on the shoulder—Christ! Ah. Okay. Let it out. So there's no more for the rest of the night."
"Not a chance. Every present gets a hug."
"Note to self: less presents next year."
"Ash!" He laughed.
"Kidding." She paused. "Totally not kidding."
He squeezed her tighter instead of letting go. She finally relented and tapped his shoulder in that awkward manner of hers. It was the closest he'd get to a hug from her.
"There, there."
He sniffled and swallowed back a hiccup as he broke the embrace. "Stop it. I mean it. This is actually the nicest thing I've gotten in a long while. Thank you."
She flapped her hand in a dismissive wave. He grabbed it to make her stop. "All joking aside, I'm serious. I really mean it. Thank you."
She watched him with a steadfast gaze, not responding at first. Then she reached with her other hand and patted his. "Not a problem. I guess this means I'll have to top myself next year."
"Maybe we'll be somewhere else," he said in a hopeful tone. "Somewhere far from Yamatai, perhaps."
She didn't quite meet his smile with her own.
"…maybe."
She didn't sound hopeful at all.
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His room was beginning to get a little crowded. Not that he minded, but he'd like to not trip over something every other day.
I might need to steal one of those empty footlockers soon, he mused as he pulled himself out of bed. It was still early, he guessed. Another New Year had passed. And I'm still twenty.
A very small part of him hadn't really believed he'd make it to this age. It was a rather unoptimistic part of him that he didn't like to listen to, though, and he quashed it down, because dammit, he did make it.
But at what cost, the little voice crowed before he squashed it down for good. No, thinking like that wasn't going to get him anywhere.
He padded out of his room barefoot, yawning before the smell hit him. Coffee. He smelled coffee.
It was, dare he say, delicious-smelling. It was one of those rare indulgences Ash was keen on savouring for as long as she could.
Ash was at the couch, her feet kicked up on the battered coffee table. Really, he wondered what value it had in her heart. It looked even worse now than it had before her little rage-fit-tantrum against everything in this place several months back. How she managed to repair it was also beyond him.
Maybe she was secretly magic.
She had quite a number of secrets she had yet to divulge to him.
…although frankly, to be fair, so did he.
Touché.
He shook the thoughts of poor, abused coffee tables from his head and nearly stopped in his tracks when he saw that Ash was…not really…dressed. Not like her usual self, at least.
Even though her eyes were closed, she had probably already noticed him. Her ears didn't miss much in this place. Neither did her nose. That was probably why she had a better time sneaking around him while she had been healing from the sea cave incident than he had with her and his broken leg.
He kept going, trying to not let the falter in his steps alert her.
"Mornin'," she said, her eyes still closed, a chipped and faded off-white mug of coffee in hand.
He averted his gaze hurriedly as he made a beeline for the stove. Breakfast was already cooked, as usual.
"M-morning," he replied. "Erm…you…look different today."
"You sound like you're twelve and seeing a woman for the first time."
"It's not the first time I've seen a woman, it's just…you."
Baggy pants were one thing. A halter top with thin straps, showing off belly and shoulders and a bit of cleavage, was quite another. That and…and all the scars…
Ash was watching him with her gold eye like a hawk, a crooked smile on her face. Slowly, she closed it again and sipped her coffee.
"Well, when I'm not entertaining guests, I like to prance around naked. And since I can't do that right now, well…best I can do."
He stiffened at her words, groaning softly. No, no. Don't imagine that. Don't. She's just teasing you, she does that a lot. Don't—
Gah. Too late.
Ash snickered behind him from the couch and sighed in triumph.
"Yessssss, first awkward thought of the day. Me one, you zip."
"Do you really think it appropriate to do that to yourself? Especially where I'm concerned? Have you no shame?"
It wasn't like she wasn't unattractive. Sure, she had scars all over, but…she wasn't ugly because of them. Now that he's seen them—most of them, all at once—he couldn't imagine what she'd look like without them. And well, she wasn't bad in the endowment front, either, if he was honest, and she was rather curvy despite her leanness. Fit and athletic and it worked for her. And she was actually very pretty and…and…
…he should probably stop while he was ahead.
"Eh. I'm not selling nothin' physical or giving it out for free. Gotta get my kicks somehow. So no, no shame to be had for the jokes I put out. Not like you're actually viewing any naughty bits."
He glowered at her as he gathered his plates, all tottering together in a leaning tower as he headed back for his room.
"Aw, you're not gonna eat out here? C'mon, I was joking! You know I was! Allen!"
He ignored her. He was going to ignore her for the rest of the day for that.
A day was nothing compared to the entire month she went silent with him about two and a half years back because of stupid argument. She wouldn't say anything beyond a signed word to him, and she was so much better at it than he was. He had ended up giving up most of the time.
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His new bow really was easier to draw and execute a shot than his old one. Just as Ash had promised, it accommodated with his longer left arm and the pull of the bowstring to reach his cheek without sacrificing drawing or firepower. However, it also took time to adjust to it. It took more strength to draw the bowstring back, and that left him struggling at times to maintain good posture and maintain steady shots. He was beginning to grow accustomed to the changes, and he thought he was doing fairly well by the end of the day.
And yet—she was still treating him like a new student. Although in a sense, she was so much older than he was. Compared to her, he really was.
That didn't make him feel any better that she'd occasionally flick his elbow or give his abdominal a light smack and tell him to tighten his core, or breathe evenly, slowly, to keep his focus on the target.
He finally got fed up with it and dropped his stance, glaring down at her. Oh, that was good. It really did feel good to be tall.
She raised a brow at him, her lips pressing into a displeased thin line.
"There a problem?"
"Yes, actually—I've been doing this for four years. I think I can do this without you criticizing every move I make when we come down to the range!"
"I'm pretty sure that I've been at this for a mu—"
"—much longer time than I have even been alive, yes. Thank you, I know."
"Oh, ho. Got a bit of bite in you today, I like that. Okay, smart ass, well, if you don't think you're in need of any more tutoring, then why don't you put your money where your mouth is? You always keep mentioning you're a 'gambling man'—"
"—I don't always say I'm a gambling man, just sometimes—"
"—so how about a wager huh? I win, you shut up and do as I say when we're on the range. You win, I leave you alone, for forever from this day forward when we're on the range." She offered her hand out to him. He didn't hesitate a moment in grabbing it.
"Deal."
She didn't hesitate in yanking him down to her level and she leaned forward, her natural warmth embracing him quickly while her breath ghosted across his ear when she whispered, "Sucker!"
Ash pulled away and quickly trotted down the range.
"I'll set things up," she said with a mocking salute. Then she was gone, disappearing around the bend. He stared after her, the gears clicking slowly into place.
"Oh…wait. What…what did I just agree to?"
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All the targets had been pulled free of their previous shots. Most arrows were splintered, broken messes, but the arrowheads were still salvageable. Ash deposited a good number of them into a bucket and they clanked away inside the metal pail. When she finished, she handed him a new quiver. The feathers on the shaft were bright green with dashes of light greys.
"Clover," he said, reaching out to brush his fingers across them.
"Donated feathers." Ash nodded. She hefted another quiver and buckled it to her belt. The feathers on hers were faded violet and muted greys. Mana's feathers. He threw his quiver over his shoulder, feeling slightly sick to his stomach. What has he just agreed to, he wondered for the umpteenth time. He was going to lose, he just knew it. This was definitely a bet he couldn't win. And there was no cheating in archery. Not easily or quickly.
"Rules are, no loosing arrows at each other," she started.
"I thought that would be obvious." He groused back.
"No stealing each other's arrows, for more obvious reasons. Colour-coded." She motioned between their two quivers and the feathered fletchings.
"The one with the most arrows in targets along the course is the winner. If you miss, you can't pick the arrow back up and reuse it. If you hit bullseyes, double the points. Ready?"
"Wait, what? No!"
"Too late! Go!"
She darted off into the underbrush and he stood there, his mouth gaping open.
"I…dammit!" He went off after her. Already, though, he could tell he wasn't going to win.
It didn't mean he couldn't try.
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She wouldn't wipe that smug grin off her face. His mood was entirely soured as she, predictably, counted yet another arrow to her pile and he…didn't. Compared to her shots, he had done horribly.
She could fire off at least three arrows at once and hit three different targets. He had almost forgotten that she had that kind of skill in her arsenal. In fact, it was one of the first things she had ever shown him and he had forgotten about it! How embarrassing…
"Well, Mister Big Shot, looks like I win."
"Of course you won, you're much better at this, you've had years' worth of practice."
"Exactly. Practice. I probably had no one to teach me. I think I had to learn from experience and mistakes and a lot of pain. You're lucky you're learning from someone and not doing it on the fly, like I most likely had to do."
She stepped closer and reached up, just enough, to yank him down her level, her face right up to his. He could feel her body heat more tangibly up close like this and his heart gave a particularly hard thump in surprise when she pulled him closer. He could feel the curve of her body pressed practically against his as she leaned in.
"So don't question me when I tell you to do something on the range, because it might just save your life. You won't shoot a human like the Solarii, fine. I'll live with that. But if it's an Oni, you'd better loose your arrows, and you'd better aim true. Those bastards are quicker and harder to take down. Understand? This wasn't just a bet, it was a test to see how well you did under pressure shooting in a time limit, while watching my back, and you failed, miserably."
She let him go. He still could scarcely breathe, not with her so close.
"Back to practice," she snapped her fingers, all business again, motioning toward the range. She had more words lined up on her lips but they died suddenly and she glanced skyward, her ears ramrod straight, shoulders back and her spine stiff. "No. Cancel that. No more practice, actually."
"Another storm?"
She nodded. "Big'un. We'd better get back before it hits."
He almost sighed in relief. He was beginning to get sore, and not just physically.
His pride hurt more than just a little bit too.
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They made it back mere seconds before the downfall hit them. When it came down, it came down hard. Allen grinned as the door shut behind them, locking out the worst of the downpour.
"Made it," he said with a relieved grin.
"Juuuuust barely. God, I hate rain."
"I don't mind it, so long as I'm not stuck in it," he admitted.
Ash made a noise of disgust. "Ugh. You're weird. I hate it. I can hold a flame in the rain, but I waste more energy trying. I can still track scent markers, but it's always ends up muddled sooner or later. Not to mention my hearing suffers just enough for the white noise to masks potential threats more easily. Fuck the rain. Fuck this island, just—just fuck everything."
She threw up her hands as high as she could manage—which wasn't very high to begin with—and stalked off toward the couch.
He hesitated, remaining where he stood, before following. She plopped down immediately and he slowly lowered himself in a seat. He jumped when she flopped over, her head leaning on his shoulder.
"Mmm…I guess this isn't so bad, though. I think…I might get used to this kind of thing." She paused. "No bear hugs. You have tapped out your reservoir of hugs until next Christmas."
"I don't give you bear hugs."
"Liar. I thought my lungs were going to pop with how hard you squeezed me. Pop!"
She laughed and settled closer, drawing her legs up onto the couch. He snorted, and glanced down at her while she craned her neck to rest her chin on his shoulder and look up at him.
"Pop!" She repeated softly with a grin. He rolled his eyes, but laughed nonetheless.
"I would never dream of popping your lungs on purpose."
"So, it'd be an accident."
"I think your lungs are tougher than you're letting on. What was it you told me before, you can hold your breath for over an hour underwater?"
He leaned into the back of the couch, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She sighed. Ash was warm, invitingly so. She had repositioned herself against him and it felt right. Or maybe it was the soothing heat she was emitting. It was seeping into his tired, sore muscles and maybe that was lulling him into thinking like that. Either way…he didn't want to move and he didn't want her to get up for anything. Allen closed his eyes, leaning his head back a little. He wanted to linger like this for just a little bit longer…
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Allen woke up alone on the couch, lying along its full length and a blanket draped over him. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and rubbed at his head. Everything ached worse than it had yesterday. She had put him through the wringers, more so than usual. He hasn't felt this sore in a while.
"Mornin'," Ash's voice drifted to him. He looked up and saw Ash dressed similarly like she had the other morning: baggy pants, bare pawed feet, halter-like top. She had her back facing him as she worked to finish up breakfast. He gradually found himself transfixed by the presence of more scars and the tattoo that engulfed her entire backside. Or what he could see of it, which was quite a lot.
Jagged rips traced down the length of her back in a diagonal fashion, from top right to bottom left. Right over the spine. And they didn't look like they were shallow hits, either. He remembered those, if only just barely. There were a few puckered scars, small pinpricks on her sides as well. Gunshot wounds, he recognized them as. He had his own to match. He recognized the handiwork of the silver knife from a while back, the scar a little darker than the rest.
And then there was the giant tattoo that was directly over most of the scars. At first, he thought it was a giant cross, but no. No, that didn't fit into Ash's aesthetic; she disliked mainstream religion like Christianity or Catholicism. She had made it poignantly clear on more than one occasion over the last four years that she was, in no way, an overtly religious person.
In fact, she cursed God's name more often naught and didn't have any qualms or reservations about it either. They've also had more than one fight regarding the actual existence of God and everything that entailed to it. She was about as stubborn on her stance as he was on his, especially considering his background and the war he'd been involved in. They've both eventually agreed to drop the issue and not bring it up if they could.
The not-cross on her back, however, was as intriguing as it was familiar in design. He felt like he's seen it before. While it was vaguely cross shaped, where the top of the cross should have reached defiantly for the sky, it was instead an oblong shape, looping in an almost circular fashion, hooking onto the arms. It was a rustic golden-yellow and designed in such a way that it almost looked like she had actual gold grafted onto her flesh, and somehow that suited her just fine. Seeing something silver, even tattoo ink, didn't settle right with him. Not after the incident in the sea caves…
He had never seen this tattoo before, not in detail and for obvious reasons, but he's seen the others: the pure black band around her neck like a faux choker necklace and the bright green four-leafed clover engraved with the number '13' in darker green print over that on her left hand. But then he caught glimpse of something he'd never seen on her. It was a paw print, plain and simple in design, and inside that…a pentacle. He stared, transfixed. It was upright and designed like a Celtic knot, with its arms crossing over one another, but recognizable all the same.
"Getting a nice eyeful over there? If you had a camera, I'd tell you to take a picture. It'd last a lot longer."
Allen gulped down next breath and nearly choked on it when he saw Ash looking at him.
"I…it's just…I've never seen those…those tattoos."
He motioned meekly toward the one on her shoulder and her back. Her eyes flicked once to her shoulder and once over it.
"Right. I sometimes forget about them too," she admitted with a shrug. Then she motioned to the plates piled around the stove area. "Food's done. Dig in."
"Why a pentacle?" He blurted out abruptly, before clacking his jaw shut tightly. Ash paused, hands hovering over a few plates she had set aside for herself. She stared at him intensely and he just about regretted opening his mouth. She looked back over her shoulder, down at the paw print and the star etched in her skin so permanently.
"The…pentagram?" She said it slowly, as though she was correcting him. "I…don't even remember, Allen. We've been over this before; I can't recall everything from early on in my life. If I could…I'd tell you." She sounded so…apologetic and she was sincere about it, too. He almost felt bad for prying.
"It's just," he paused, lifting his bangs and showing the scar above his brow. "It's…similar."
"Allen…I probably got this when I was literally, not figuratively, around your age. Who knows why I got this? Most likely, I did it to piss someone off. Maybe my parents." She shrugged with a waning grin. "And that's a scar on your head, not a tattoo. Besides, stars are pretty common themes for tattoos…if I remember correctly."
She looked away from him and her eyes were clouded over, and he knew she was gone, off in that head of hers. She looked doubtful and troubled and was now gripping her shoulder tightly, distractedly.
"Ash," he called to her, getting up from the couch. She didn't respond to the first, and it took the third or fourth time around for her to glance his way again. By that time, he'd crossed the room to her side. He lightly touched her elbow and she nearly flinched away, but stilled almost instantly when she realized it was him. Clarity flooded back in her gaze. "Sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
"It's…it's fine."
"Are you sure—"
"I'm sure," she asserted more firmly. "I'm fine. And your food is getting cold. Might want to dig in."
She wasn't really fine. He already knew that much. She just didn't want to talk about it and pressing her wouldn't help matters. She could clam up faster than he could blink. So he let it drop for the time being.
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"Wait, wait, wait…you—you, you right here, this you—were a traveling clown?"
Ash stared at him with beady, suspicious eyes.
"I knew it. I knew something was off about you. And that's the cake. That is the entire weird fucking cake. You can have it. Take it, really. Go on."
"What's wrong with clowns?" He laughed.
"I don't like clowns. I know that much about myself."
"What? Everyone loves clowns!"
"Clowns are fucking creepy, Allen. I don't remember much, but I remember clowns creep me out. I blame…what's-his-face? Stephen King."
She made a show of shuddering and even leaned away from him on the couch until she fell over on the other side. Her tail curled up over her.
"Oh, I'm not creepy, am I?" He teased, leaning over to poke at her side. She wiggled away and brandished a fist in his direction.
"You put on any makeup or a big red nose or whatever else they wear, whatsoever, I will clock you, I swear I will. And I will not feel bad about it."
He motioned a mock surrender with his hands. "Truce, truce, I promise not to dress like a clown around you. Not on purpose. It's not as though I have anyone to perform for, either. I don't think the Solarii or the Oni are big fans of circus performers."
"I honestly didn't peg you for a circus brat. I really didn't, pinkie swear, I didn't."
"I would never have pegged you as an adrenaline junkie, and yet…here we are." He opened his arms up into a shrug. She was still eyeing him like he was about to, well, wipe on some of his old makeup and scare her.
He was almost tempted by the idea.
Then again, she hit hard and she hit fast.
But the real question is if it would be worth it.
After weighing his options…probably not. Too much work, not enough pay off.
She was probably the type to hit first and then scream and run away later, too. If she did such things. He could actually kind of picture it now.
"I am not an adrenaline junkie," she finally stated, breaking through his thoughts. She was pouting at him, her arms crossed over her chest in a defiant manner.
"Yes you are—how many times have I had to come find you after you've jumped off yet another cliff, whooping and hollering away, only to find you've done something horrible to your legs or arms and can't put yourself back together again?"
"That was one time—"
"—twelve—"
"—oh really, twelve?"
"Yes, really! A dozen times, I've had to peel you off the ground and relocate one or both of your arms back into their sockets, or-or your legs and…I'm-I'm not going to win this argument, am I?"
"Think on your answer and then get back to me," she said, a tight smile on her lips.
"I'm…going to go with no."
"Good."
"I still say you're an adrenaline junkie."
"Then you're a creepy clown boy."
"I'm not creepy, but I was a clown boy."
"Right, just like you definitely don't cheat at cards."
"I never cheat at cards. We've already established that."
"Oh, really? Put your money where your mouth is, then."
"Do you really want to challenge me?" He leaned a little closer, letting his grin spread just a smidgeon. She tipped her chin back in defiance, regarding him coolly.
"Yep."
"Oh, and I suppose, there's going to be something to actually wager, other than you simply getting your pride handed to you on a sil—on a platter?"
She snorted at his near-slip up on the word 'silver' but nonetheless, she held her ground rather admirably.
"What the hell would I have to wager?"
"Mm…" he thought for a moment. "Your bow?"
"Sorry, that's custom made for me and me only. Just like yours. Next!"
He thought and in all honesty, he couldn't think of—wait. He had it.
"You quit haranguing me while we're at our range."
"Nope! You still suck and need instruction. Next!"
…he forgot she wasn't easily swayed on bets. Allen frowned, actually beginning to feel himself lose steam.
"And no strip poker," Ash added.
"I would never with a woman," he countered, looking somewhat offended. Grown men, he'd gladly strip to their underwear, if only to teach them a valuable lesson in not underestimating him. Women, he would do no such thing to. He had some manner of decorum, thank you very much.
"You were thinking about it, I know you were."
She smirked fully at him and seeing it just made him want to wipe it off her face, just for once, and without pissing her off to do it—
"How about a kiss?"
"…you did not just propose that."
"Why not? You won't have much to lose, nothing that would truly have you lose face, so to speak. What can you lose in betting something like that?"
Ash narrowed her mismatched eyes at him. "Fine. Deal. A kiss, if you win. If I win…you lead the next hunt without me. On a full grown, healthy bull Trike."
He stared at her, taken aback and astonished at such a proposition.
A full grown Triceratops…? He didn't think he was quite ready for one of those yet. They were big and aggressive and he would have to get too close for comfort to lay a good hit on one. And a good hit meant through the eye, to the brain, for instantaneous death. Trikes required a delicate and accurate sleight of hand, they weren't easy to kill. That was why she always led the hunts against such kinds of prey. Hitting a Trike's sides with an arrow was like poking a cow with toothpicks; they wouldn't go deep enough for heart or lung strikes like with deer. She knew this. She knew that he knew this.
Even with the raptor pack backing him, it would be notoriously difficult. Not to mention…if he did manage to bring one down, she'd get off his back at the range. Perhaps he could throw just one card game, if it meant an even bigger victory in the end.
He offered his hand to her. "Deal."
She smirked again at him and snatched up his hand in her own. "Shiny. Get the cards."
OoOoOoOoOoO
