Cradling his arm against his chest, Jasper tried to stay behind High Priest Oregano as they stood in the hospital lobby. The priest had come to get Tundra's coat, but instead discovered Jasper picking himself off the floor. He'd known he'd messed up when Tundra had suddenly come storming back into the room. He'd not meant to get caught sitting on the couch and already knew that getting thrown to the floor wasn't going to be the end of it.

Following Oregano to the hospital was only going to get him in more trouble. Tundra didn't want anyone to know of Jasper's existence. However, given how his arm was starting to swell and he couldn't rotate his wrist, he knew something was broken. He missed Hanbul. A Healer could have fixed his arm in seconds. Instead, he was stuck waiting for it to heal on its own, possibly wrong. Jasper hated Durshand even more by the day, if that was at all possible.

Oregano shifted his weight in the chair he sat in. Jasper sank lower in his own, trying to keep behind the older man.

In addition to the dread of knowing he was probably going to get more than his arm broken when Tundra found out, Jasper couldn't help but feel very self-conscious about not wearing a tabba in public. While it had been almost a year since he'd last worn one, Jasper also hadn't been outside the Temple in that time, let alone outside of Tundra's quarters.

The door to the street opened, letting in a blast of cold air that tickled Jasper's nose. While the waiting area was generally quiet, it got even quieter. Unable to help himself, Jasper looked over. The cold air wasn't enough to freeze him through, but what did was the sight of an Amro, without a tabba, carrying a Durrish woman like she was his bride.

"You just have a seat here, Seniorita," Amro said. His voice was smooth with an odd accent. He spoke in Durrish... except that last word.

Memories choked Jasper. Home was so far away, and yet here was an Amro, casually addressing a Dur like he wasn't ashamed of anything about his behavior.

Two years ago, he'd run away from his family. He'd thought the schooling was too harsh; he'd thought that he could get by on his own. Why did he need to know the Old language? He wasn't close enough relation to the Padasha to get anything out of the education he was getting. The best he could hope for was an administrative position in the government, and he'd be expected to work. After leaving Katstanbul, he'd found out very quickly that there was a lot worse in the world than homework and a nagging tutor.

The Amro settled the woman into a chair near Oregano and grinned as he stepped back. "I'll just get you checked in, sit tight." He immediately went to speak with the woman at the front desk. His bright red hair swayed behind him. The Durrish woman at the desk wasn't pleased to see the Amro, but took down the information he gave her before returning. Amro returned to speak to the woman. "She said it might be a bit of a wait. Lot of people slipping on ice today."

The girl stared up at the Amro, blushing slightly at his attention, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Thank you so much, Reed."

Jasper sank back behind Oregano again, staring at the wall ahead in shock.

"Good afternoon, Squire Reed, Squire Timmons," Oregano addressed as if he were familiar with the Amro. The second name brought Jasper's attention to the big brunet boy who stood awkwardly nearby, holding a big bag of groceries. Timmons' expression turned relieved as he looked at Oregano.

"High Priest," he greeted in return.

"Sir," Amro responded politely, though his expression wasn't nearly as welcoming as Timmons'.

"I was wondering how the Hans received my gift?" Oregano asked.

Unable to help himself, Jasper glanced at the Amro again, staring past Oregano's shoulder. His eyes met Amro's, though it was only briefly. Timmons looked from Amro to Oregano in confusion.

"They took it," the young man said, hooking his thumb in his belt as he returned his gaze to the priest.

Jasper knew he was staring, and yet, he couldn't stop. Amro flicked another glance at him, but didn't seem offended. He stood with his head high, hair uncovered, shoulders back. He acted like he had just as much right to be there, to exist as any other Dur in the room. He unapologetically took up space with his elbows, met people's gaze, and didn't lower his voice.

Jealousy burned in Jasper's throat. I want to be that confident...

"You're gonna go broke if you keep feeding them," Amro cautioned.

"Are you saying not to help them?"

Amro looked aside. "Just saying they need something where they can help themselves more than you giving them handouts all the time."

Oregano sighed. "Yes, but since they refuse to convert to the Teachings, I can't really give them shelter."

Amro folded his arms. "That's shitty of you, only offering help with strings attached. And that ain't what I was suggesting."

Timmons frowned at Amro, looking like he wanted to object.

"If you could just make them understand--" Oregano said.

"Listen, man. They don't like me. I told you that. You'd be better off asking your friend there to talk to them." He gestured at Jasper. Dropping his hands to his sides again, Amro turned to the Durrish woman. "You alright, need anything else before I head off?"

"Oh. Um. I've taken up so much of your time already."

"I've always got time for a pretty girl like you," Amro grinned and winked.

She blushed, opening her mouth in shock.

Jasper glowered in jealousy. Amro was sickeingly charming. His gaze flicked to Timmons, realizing that the other boy was clearly thinking the same thing.

Collecting her thoughts, she said, "If you could take my bag to my father? Tell him I'm here. He'll be worried if I'm much later getting home."

Amro flashed a handsome grin at the girl. "Sure thing."

"Squire," Oregano said, "Could I at least trouble you to give them coats and blankets for the winter? Or is allowing them to suffer the cold acceptable to you?"

Jasper scowled at Oregano's back. The tone was unnecessary. Even though the situation was awful, Amro was right in that just giving them things was insulting.

"I'll do that." Amro's expression hardened. "Long as they don't got strings attached or bedbugs."

Timmons scowled at Amro this time. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something.

Amro continued, "They may not like me, but I won't be party to kicking them when they're already in the gutter."

"That pride is going to get you killed," Oregano warned.

Armo smirked. "Then I'll go down swingin. See you around." He walked out. Timmons followed close on his heels, as if he had something stern to say, still carrying the groceries.

Just as the door closed, Tundra's unpleasant voice called, "High Priest Oregano."

Oregano stood, holding Tundra's coat out to her. His movement unexpectedly exposed Jasper to the bitter bitch's view. Her expression hardened before she got control of her face.

"Oh, thank you! I was in such a hurry," Tundra said, taking her coat. She gripped Oregano's arm in a pinching grip and leaned in. Whatever she said, Jasper didn't hear it. Her expression remained pleasant, but her eyes pinned Jasper in place.

I'm going to get beaten and locked in one of those basement rooms again.

Once more, Jasper felt jealous of Amro, but his cousin's parting words came to mind. Maybe I should 'go down swinging,' too?

His gaze slid to the girl, finding her wearing a troubled expression. She glanced at him and offered a hesitant smile.

**

Once outside, Timmons hurried beside Reed. "How dare you talk to Oregano like that!"

"He's being shitty. Why should I trust someone whose kindness comes with a price tag?" Reed retorted.

"That's not how it is at all!"

"Yeah it is. He said it himself. The Hans have to convert if they want to get any help in Lockton. How would you feel if I said you have to worship my god if you want to be my friend?" Reed said.

Timmons looked uncomfortable and dropped back a step. "That's different. Nyltia is real. Is your god real?"

"Being real or not doesn't matter," Reed said, still leading the way. "She can be real and we can appreciate what she did and is doing for the world, but that doesn't mean we need to get down and lick her boots." He looked at Timmons, "Because I can promise you that she doesn't give a shit about that."

"How would you know?"

"On my way to Lockton, I got to see her," Reed said with a deadpan look. "She doesn't give a shit about mortal affairs. She's busy." Admittedly, it wasn't a one-on-one viewing. He didn't get to speak to her, but the experience was eerie nonetheless. She was clearly a bloodless corpse, puppeted by something that had more appendages than humanly possible. Most of them resembled sea creatures of various types. She floated in her garden and said something vague about blessings, but otherwise wasn't paying attention to the pilgrims who had been let into her atrium. Reed had only been there because someone thought it would be funny to drag him along. Or they were hoping to show a dumb Han the error of their ways for not worshipping an actual god in the flesh. Reed had blinked a few times as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing before grinning because he really was in a fantasy world, and that was cool. The reaction had disappointed his companion, of course, but Reed didn’t care about that guy’s opinion.

Timmons was staring with his mouth open. "You're a liar. That's not true!"

"It is. They gave me one of those little wooden bookmark things."

"You're full of shit. You're showing me when we get back to the Barracks," Timmons asserted.

"Aite."

"But how can you be so unmoved by seeing the goddess?"

"Because she's... not interested in human stuff," Reed said. He didn't have the words in Durrish to explain. "And this insistence on worship is just petty people who want power. The worship isn't for Nyltia. It's for Oregano. Nyltia doesn't care."

"But the Teachings!" Timmons insisted. He'd gotten loud, and other people in the street were looking.

"What about them? Y'all don't follow them either." Reed crossed his arms. "If you did, there wouldn't be homeless people. I read the book, Timmons. Your Beloved guy is an asshole, and everyone here is using his words as an excuse to be selfish."

Timmons fumed. He was about to stomp off, but realized he was still holding Bella's groceries. Making a decision, he shoved the bag into Reed's chest.

Catching the bag hastily, he watched as Timmons stomped away. Reed watched him go, realizing he had gone a bit too far with his comments. He wasn't far from Bella's house, at least. He'd catch up with Timmons back at the Barracks. In the meantime, he'd figure out how to apologize.

Continuing down the street three more houses, Reed came to the door and adjusted the bag to knock.

Preoccupied with his own thoughts, Reed was momentarily startled by the door opening.

“Bella, why are y—” the man stopped when he found Reed instead. “Can I help you?” he asked warily.

“Mister Greg, Bella slipped on some ice. My friend and I took her to the hospital. She’s alright, probably twisted ankle, but she asked me to bring her bag to you and let you know where she is.” Reed put on his most disarming smile. The racism here wasn’t usually violent, but it was still low-key hostile.

“Twisted her ankle?” the middle-aged man asked. He hesitated to take the bag from Reed, though. “What happened to your friend?”

“I said something he didn’t like, and he ran off,” Reed said and shrugged. “Which I’d like to go clear up with him.” He pushed the bag toward the man. The man took the bag. “Have a blessed day.” Reed gave a vague salute-wave with his now free hand and trotted off.

Another thing that bothered Reed was the Hannish boy who had been sitting behind Oregano. He didn’t have one of those head-cloths, which was weird by itself, but everything else about him wasn’t adding up. He was clean and had the complexion of someone who had spent their childhood well-cared for. But he was pale like he’d not seen the sun in a long time. He was dangerously thin and had old bruises on his face and what looked like road rash across his left cheek and forehead. Where the Hans on the riverbank were angry, this boy had only recently learned to keep his head down. He still had an arrogance about him that made Reed think that he wasn’t used to making himself small, and doing so went against everything he had in him.

However, that was a mystery for later. Timmons needed dealt with first.