The next day continues much the same as the previous. Elias is returned to his sack, and he resumes his stream of inane commentary. Some of his statements seem entirely nonsensical, while others have Noras casting brief, longing glances at where his axe rests in the back of the cart. This, he thinks to himself, is why he tries to avoid kidnapping jobs. A simple assassination is much better for everyone.

Finally, close to sunset, they arrive in a larger town. Once again, before they reach, Noras stops in a secluded area and (begrudgingly) lets the target out of the sack. They pull up to a small, rather run-down looking inn, and Noras has the target and Sir Fluffles wait while he checks Jeade into the stables, taking time to ensure that the rather seedy-looking stablehands know that it is in their best interests to take good care of Jeade.

Meanwhile, Elias, yet again, has taken to looking around and making more notes of what this town might need, although the list is much smaller considering that this town is much larger than the previous. He then looks at his hair, running his hands through the loose strands, freeing dust, and frowns: [quietly] I need a bath.

Noras comes back, leading the target into the inn and approaching the desk. He has also retrieved his axe from the cart, keeping it strapped to his back.

The innkeeper looks up as they approach: One room or two?

Noras: One, with two beds.

The innkeeper glances between them. She flips through the logbook on the table, her eyes barely skimming the pages before she shrugs one shoulder: Don’t have any.

Elias blinks: Are you quite sure?

The innkeeper reaches under the desk to produce a key: Quite sure.

Elias nods slowly: We’ll take two rooms then, [he turns to look at Noras] I’ll pay for myself.

Noras gives him an irritated look, taking the key from the innkeeper: No, just the one. We’ll make do.

The innkeeper glances between them again, a wry half-smile growing on her face.

Elias sighs: Very well. [He looks at the woman] Thank you, Madam.

The innkeeper shrugs, still wearing the half-smile: [with an odd sort of tone] Enjoy the room~

Elias raises an eyebrow: … Is there something on my face… or his?

Noras gives the innkeeper a dark look and then turns it on Elias: No. Let’s go. [and he walks off into the inn, heading for their room]

Elias looks after him with a sigh, then turns back to the woman, slipping off a silver ring with a small orange gemstone embedded in the middle: Would this be enough to cover the cost of a bath?

The innkeeper looks at the ring, and then at Elias, and then her hand flashes out and the ring disappears: Of course. I’ll have one sent up shortly, sir.

Elias nods: Thank you kindly. [he then follows after Noras]

Inside the room, Noras has propped his axe against the windowsill and is currently engaged in shifting half of the bedding onto the floor.

Elias watches him do this from the doorway with a raised eyebrow and loosely crossed arms: Really?

Noras finishes his work: Really. [he walks over to close the door and then goes to the window, bringing a small, rickety chair over to it and sitting down for some Axe Maintenance Time]

Elias shakes his head, placing Sir Fluffles on the bed: You could have at least had the decency to allow me to pay for my own room. Then each of us could have gotten our own bed.

Noras snorts slightly: Decency? Who do you think I am? [he looks between the target and the bed] I’ve got my own bed.

Elias: [lightly] I can see that. [Sir Fluffles jumps across the bed to sit on the edge and glare at Noras] I’ll take the floor if it is what you wish, but considering you’re taking me to what is most likely my death, I don’t think decency should be too hard to come by.

Noras: [under his breath] Leave it to a noble to remember decency when he’s on death’s door. [He occupies himself with sharpening and cleaning the axe]

Elias, settling on another chair on the other side of the room, starts to unravel his hair from the braid, combing his fingers through it to free the dust and dirt that had accumulated over the journey: I try my best always to be decent, most people deserve it, at the very least.

Noras, extremely dubiously: I’m sure you do. [He shakes his head, setting the axe back against the wall and looking out the window] Don’t expect any decency here, your highness. Not many of us have much compassion for nobility.

Elias, pausing: There’s no need for formality, Elias will do. [he then looks past Noras, out the window to the town] Although I can understand your distaste.

Noras gains a wry, slightly bitter smile, turning to Elias: Ah, of course, I see. [mockingly] You’re different.

Elias blinks, looking at Noras: I am? How so?

Noras just scowls at him.

Elias looks out the window again: Formalities are for those who either wish to show respect, which I doubt you’re doing, or for those who wish to take advantage of gullibility. However, if the reason you aren’t using my name is due to discomfort, then please, do as you wish.

Noras’s expression goes flat and he turns back to the window: As it happens, I don’t particularly care, your highness. Comfort has nothing to do with it.

Elias dips his head: Ah, so it is for humour then? Very well.

There is a knock on the door, then, and Noras turns with a sharp glance, one hand going to the throwing knife at his belt.

Elias rolls his eyes minutely: Do not be dramatic, I ordered a bath, that is all. [He walks over to the door and opens it, smiling slightly] Please, come in.

A young woman rolls a still-steaming bath into the room, with a towel hanging off of its side, easing the wooden basin off of the wheeled platform beneath it. She bows briefly to Elias, requests him to leave the basin outside when he is done, bows once more, and retreats from the room.

Noras levels a slightly incredulous and extremely annoyed look at the bath.

Elias catches the look: I paid for it myself, do not worry, you won’t be charged later. [He then turns] If you would like, I could request a second one. The ring I used to pay should cover that and more.

Noras gives him a dark look: I don’t need nor want the charity of a noble, let alone a captive one. [He turns away] Have your bath, if it’ll shut you up.

Elias shrugs, taking off his outer layers: Suit yourself…

Noras just takes a long, silent, steadying breath and continues looking out of the window, watching the birds that hop around on the pavement.

Eventually, there is a quiet sploosh and Elias is in the bathtub, letting out a happy sigh. After about a minute of soaking, he begins to scrub the dirt off of his skin.

Noras stays at the window a few minutes longer, before kicking off his boots and going over to the bed. He lays his axe down beside the bed, then removes some of his more uncomfortably-placed daggers and places them beneath the pillow and mattress, and then lays down on the bed, facing the ceiling.

Elias had seen this out of the corner of his eye, and while wringing water from his hair he starts to speak again: … That seems rather dangerous, you could cut yourself while you sleep.

Noras, who is increasingly getting too tired of the target’s shenanigans to bother with the flat, neutral facade he usually maintains on these missions: [bluntly] Doesn’t matter.

Elias frowns slightly: It does, even small cuts can lead to infection if not treated. And infections can be deadly.

Noras: [dryly] Small cuts can lead to infection. Sleeping unguarded will lead to termination. I’ll take my chances.

Elias’ frown deepens: … The lesser of two evils, huh. [quietly and more to himself] What a sad life.

Noras scowls, sitting up to glare at the prince: It’s a life, and that’s all that matters.

Elias tilts his head, thinking: Being alive and living are separate things.

Noras drops back onto the bed: [matter-of-factly, but with a bitter undertone] That distinction is a luxury for the rich to ponder. The rest of us take what we can get and don’t ask questions.

Elias turns to give the man a level stare, pondering for a moment before shaking his head: I do not think that that is true.

Noras rolls his eyes: You can certainly think whatever you like, your highness. [He sits up again, looking over at the prince] Are you going to stay in there all night? We’re leaving at daybreak, whether you’ve had twelve hours of sleep, or two.

Elias ignores that second part - he’s done a lot with only two hours of sleep many times anyway - looking down at his reflection in the water: Finding people to love, to help, to protect and to cherish. That is living. [He frowns at his reflection sadly] It isn’t limited to the rich and powerful, nor the poor or needy. It is limited to those who can find and hold onto it.

Noras stiffens. He thinks of warm smiles and gentle hands turning pages, and then of dark spaces and golden eyes, of screaming until he could no longer tell if he was making any sound, and his expression goes very dark. He stands up, off the bed, sliding his daggers back into his clothes. He picks up his axe and puts his boots back on, and walks toward the door: [in a strange, cold tone] Take the bed. I’ll wake you at dawn. [and he walks out of the room]

Elias blinks after him, then looks at Sir Fluffles with a self-deprecating smile: Ah, I did it again.

After another minute, Elias is out of the tub, redressed in his now dusted clothes, and starts struggling to place the tub back onto the wheeled platform.

Meanwhile, outside, Noras wants very much to go down to the stables and stay with Jeade, but he knows he can’t leave a target unattended. He paces up and down the corridor, irritation—at the prince, at himself, at his shitty boss—sparking under his skin. Finally, he goes back to the door and sits on the floor beside it, leaning back against a wall and taking long, slow breaths to calm himself down.

After a few minutes, once his breaths have steadied, he pulls a dagger from his belt and begins to spin it around in his hand, weaving it between his fingers, and then turning it to and fro so that, when he looks down, he can see his reflection in the blade. It’s not something he sees often; Noras doesn’t usually have access to mirrors, and he isn’t fond of looking into them, either. Seeing himself unsettles him, and, besides, he already knows what he’s going to see: dark circles shadowing green eyes gone dull from everything they’ve seen. Brown skin turned strangely pallid from an almost fully nocturnal lifestyle. Scars. Lots of scars. He puts the dagger away.

Finally, after about ten minutes, the tub is back on its platform, and Elias starts to wheel it outside into the corridor, blinking as he sees his captor sitting in the corridor: … Are you alright?

Noras gives no response.

Elias fidgets with his braid for a moment: I apologise if my words caused you discomfort… I’ll still take the floor, and I’ll attempt to keep my philosophies to myself. Please, don’t cause yourself sleep deprivation nor hurt your back because of me.

After a moment, Noras looks up at the prince, confusion on his face before he schools it back into flat neutrality: [guarded and suspicious] ...What does it matter to you?

Elias blinks: Pardon?

Noras stands, arms folded defensively: What does it matter to you whether I am alright? I’m your captor.

Elias opens his mouth and closes it several times before settling on: Yes, you’re my captor, but you’re still human, and you still have emotions… I have no right to infringe on them.

Noras studies him for a moment and then sits back down: [shortly] I won’t sleep either way. Don’t trouble yourself with the problems of people who wouldn’t trouble themselves with yours.

Elias lets out a quiet laugh: [wistfully] I’m afraid I don’t know how… besides, if we all just look out for ourselves, the world will never change… [he straightens and smiles at him, almost kindly] I’ll still take the floor, in case you change your mind. Good night.

Noras looks at him oddly, and guardedly, without saying anything, and shakes his head when the prince goes back inside: [softly, to himself] Such lofty ideals… [he leans his head back against the wall with a slightly bitter smile] Must be lovely, to be so naive.

Back inside the room, Elias settles on the ground, like he said he would, braiding his hair, and then looks at Sir Fluffles, who jumps onto his lap. He gives the rabbit some chin scritches: … I hope it doesn’t come to using that spell, my friend.