The days kept piling up, organizing a neat new set of daily motions for Laurel. For instance, every morning at breakfast he could see Wyvern and Desmond chatting; they seemed so happy and it irked him. He thought there was no reason, but it finally hit him that it was resentment. Resentment that they had what he didn't; that Siren would only talk to him when it came to studying and would never leave her office. Once that truth came to him, Laurel was set on changing it. She was the only person around him, after all; why not be friends? 

As they went through the day as usual in Siren's office, he waited until it seemed natural enough to close the book he was reading and act bored. "Hey, Siren…" he said, waiting for her to look up, "You know, I have barely seen anything but the office since I got here. I thought I should go sightseeing and stuff." She furrowed her brow and went back to writing, "Then go, you don't owe me satisfaction. Weren't we past that point?" It seemed like outright rejection, which made his cheeks warm up; then he remembered she was a bit slow with that stuff, so he admitted: "Um, that was an invitation… A guide might be helpful." He was pretty sure she rolled her eyes. "Then get someone else, princeling." 

His chest tightened as he searched for something to add — preferably of the kind that wouldn't make him sound pathetic. "But I like spending time with you and… I thought we might have fun," he said at last, actually making her freeze for a moment. Laurel felt silly as his heart pounded in wait for an answer. He could see Siren's face soften before she turned it away. "I doubt the 'fun' part, but I guess I could go with you to the plazas and gardens." He smiled, but she didn’t meet his eyes. “That’s good enough,” he conceded. Thus, she straightened her coat out and they ventured outside the office together for the first time.

They took the outdoor routes, walking side by side. Laurel could see the top of Siren’s head, her hair haphazardly parted; she seemed out of her habitat, hands in pockets and as stiff as a bug. The air was somewhat chilly and gray as the clouds obscured the sun, which seemed to be standard in the Lunar Bay. “There’s a nice spot in that plaza by the hill side,” she said, pointing with her chin. Once they got there, he felt inclined to agree. The stone tiles were slowly being overtaken by moss, slippery under their feet; a half-wall lined the edge of the plaza in a wide semi-circle. Coming closer to it, Laurel noticed there was a long drop down. “I feel ‘hill side’ is kind of an euphemism,” he said. Siren shrugged, “It’s par for the course here.” 

As she sat atop the wall, he mimicked her motions. The way the wind made his long hair sway was a little nauseating once he remembered the height they were at. “Why did you say you’d only come to the gardens and stuff?” Siren sighed and her shoulders went slightly upwards. “The halls are too… populated,” she answered. “So you mostly dodge people, huh…” he said, appreciating the scenery. “I’m quite busy,” she said, still looking away. Laurel took a deep breath and made a point in staring at her. “Then I’m glad you came along,” he softened his voice, “I like… your presence.” 

Her head dropped as she seemed to stare at the tip of her boots. After a long deep breath, her voice came out: “Is this your sick idea of a prank?” The force of the question was enough to make him waver. “What?” She finally turned her face to him, focusing her gaze. “I mean what I say. Is this some ploy to waste my time?,” her voice lowered an octave, “Or you heard something from Wyvern that made you think I’m some pitiful being?” Her eyes dwelled on his as if she wanted to pluck them out. 

Laurel scoffed. He couldn’t help it. As his chest tightened, he wondered if it was because he felt offended for being doubted. No, that wasn’t really it. In any case… “Are you really so insecure that you can’t fathom someone genuinely being interested in talking to you?” Her lips noticeably quivered and she gripped the wall. “I’m not insecure. It’s the opposite. I know the value of my time all too well,” she said, averting her gaze again, “And how can you be interested in talking to me if you don’t even know what that’s like?” Kind of unaware of himself, he bent a bit towards her. “So you admit you avoid talking to me outside of work?,” he asked, to which she just shrugged.

“That’s exactly the point, though. I want to know,” he tried not to sound as desperate as the tug in his chest made him feel, “I want you to talk more.” Not letting him see her face, she got back on her feet and turned towards the ledge, resting her elbows on the wall. “I don’t know how to make casual conversation,” she said, speaking so low he could hardly hear it. “It can be as shallow or as deep as you want. I’m just… interested,” he said and, after a second thought, added: “Genuinely.” She exhaled slowly and knocked on the stone a few times. “... Sure. Okay. To the basics, then,” she said, staring at the city that unfolded beneath them, “I know House Greyland tends to train their youth in a few hobbies. So I wager you’re good at fencing and horseback riding.” Tentatively, she looked up at him before asking, “But is there something you actually enjoy doing?”

Laurel chuckled, sliding a little closer. “You make a shallow question sound like an interrogation,” and, after rethinking it: “... In a positive way. Well, I do enjoy music. I’ve been trying to compose my own songs lately, but they still feel off.” She seemed perfectly attentive, eyes glued to his. “What do you play?” The tension in his chest had dissolved by then. “Guitar, mostly… And you’re a poet.” Siren shifted. “Wouldn’t call myself that, but sure,” she said. He hesitated. “If you’d be up for that… I’d love to hear some of it. Or read,” he said at last. Her mouth hung open for a moment and she inhaled sharply. “Ha. That’s…” she cut herself short, shaking her head, “You’d find me pretentious.”

After staring at her for a while, he smiled. “I like pretentious,” he replied. Now she was the one who scoffed. “Don’t play me. No one does,” she said. “I’m not playing. I like your brand of pretentiousness,” he said, “I like how you’re eager to recommend books and can compile a reading list off the top of your head. I… Not just because it’s useful. Because… Sorry.” His turn to exhale. She waited, biting her lip slightly. “I like hearing what you have to say,” he finished his thought. Seeing the reddish tint on her cheeks made his warm up as well. There was an awkward pause and he scanned her face for any trace of offense.

“Let’s make it equal, then. I’ll read you some if you play me one of your songs,” she said, adjusting her glasses with a shaky hand. Relief washed over Laurel. “Sounds good, but I didn’t bring my guitar,” he said. “I’m sure you could borrow one from the auditorium,” she stared at the floor again, “We’ve got a surplus of instruments.” He extended his hand to her; “In that case, deal.” Siren accepted the handshake faster than he’d expected.

The rest of the walk had Laurel feeling that tinge of awkward excitement and, judging by Siren's slight smile, she felt the same. Once they were back at the office, focusing on reading was a bit hard for him. "So… I told you we might have fun," he said. After a pause, he clarified: "If you did, of course." She didn't look up. "I did," she replied.