Oh why, oh why, oh why, did that horrible woman leave poor old Cicero alone!? He knew he was talking a lot but that's what he did when he was nervous! That Aela should know that! The Listener told her! So, now here he was, wandering alone and cold and hungry in the wilderness with only his knife to keep him company. Oh how he longed to hear the laughter again. At least then he'd have some form of company. But no, Cicero was the laughter.

Oh poor old Cicero. So lonely without the laughter or the Listener. At least the Listener listened to him when he rambled and babbled on and on about really nothing.

Cicero shivered and crawled into a crevice in the mountain side. Nothing would get him in here, no sirie! He was safe and sound. Well... For now. Oh! But he couldn't stay here for the night! The Listener needed help! Oh but, Cicero was cold and tired-. No!

Cicero crawled out of the crevice and began walking again. He should have been more concerned about the Listener, not himself. Oh no, no, no. The Listener was much, much more important than Cicero. Oh, The Listener would be so angry if he found out Cicero was thinking of himself while The Listener was locked up like an animal!

Of course...The Listener could be a very understanding man. Yes. Yes! Perhaps the Listener would forgive poor old Cicero for being so selfish! Yes, that did sound like the Listener. To forgive. After all, when Cicero attacked Astrid, he'd forgiven the poor jester. Well, maybe not forgiven, but he didn't kill Cicero when he was ordered to. So, maybe in a way it was forgiveness... Maybe...

It wasn't long before Cicero came across a camp. Only when he found the camp did he realize that it had gotten dark. Funny how getting absorbed into one's own thoughts can make one lose track of time. He cautiously pulled out his dagger and slowly approached the camp. As soon as he saw the owner of the camp, he began to pitch a fit.

"How dare you leave poor old Cicero alone in the cold!" he shouted, making Aela jump up and draw her own dagger. Seeing it was Cicero who was yelling at her, she put the dagger up and sighed, letting the lunatic rant. "Poor Cicero was so cold and hungry and alone! Why?! Why did you leave me to rot?! Why leave little old me to fend for myself?!"

Aela shook her head and handed the jester some venison steak, which quickly shut him up, allowing her to explain. " Look, I got up early to go hunting for food. When I got back, you were gone. So I went looking for you. I had to set up camp when it got dark, so I figured I'd wait for you to find me." Cicero processed the information and blushed. So, he'd misunderstood the situation. "M-my apologies." he stuttered, feeling like the fool he was dressed as.

Aela nodded and looked up at the sky, praying to Arkay for Vilkas and Farkas's safety. Cicero looked to Aela and his own look softened. He knew the look on her face. It was the sort of look a other got when she thought of her children when they left the house and moved somewhere else. It was the look an elder sibling got when they worried over their younger sibling... It was the look he'd seen on the Listener's face more than once. Cicero had once asked about the look and the Listener just smiled sadly, chuckled, and told Cicero that he missed his spouse and parents.

Poor Listener... Lurch was such a kind man. Albeit loud and eccentric, but kind. He loved to help people. Cicero never understood how someone who killed for a living (people, dragons, or animals) could help harvest crops and give them to the farmers. He didn't see how Lurch could just... drop something and help someone out with something else. Like when he was busy finding this out about Markarth, he dropped that to get the Smelter Overseer to let up on the harsh treatment of the workers.

Lurch was sweet and didn't deserve the harsh treatment he got from many of the people in the world.

Even poor old Cicero knew that the Listener was too good in his ways, but something made him not care. Something made Cicero want to help the Listener help others. Perhaps he was just thinking too much into things, but maybe, just maybe, the Listener was helping him regain his humanity and his sanity.

"Go to sleep Cicero." The jester looked up and tilted his head. "Go to sleep." Aela repeated. "I'll wake you up when I get up, okay?" Cicero nodded and went to lay down. Covering himself with a fur, Cicero thought about the Listener's ways. Kind, but merciless. Gentle, but strict. Cicero pouted. The Listener was practically the epitome of irony, he realized. Oh well.

The Listener did his job well and that was all that mattered to dear Cicero. The jester made a note to ask the Listener about his family. To ask why he looked so sad thinking about them. It couldn't be too much to ask, right? Maybe it hurt and that's why he didn't talk about them, Cicero realized. It hurt the Listener to speak of his family,so he didn't.

Perhaps, in some way, Cicero could help ease that pain. Maybe he could be like the Listener and help someone else. Maybe.

Maybe.