"Probably for the best," he admits solemnly. "It's definitely one of the more expensive habits I've ever had and I've only just started."
He's trying to keep a smile at bay, but it hides in his voice. Ro shifts a bit, just trying to be comfortable without being a complete lump against Caleb's side. He doesn't want to make him uncomfortable, either.
The smile creeps across his face eventually. Ro adjusts Caleb's scarf around him, wrapping more of it around his neck now that the rest of him is safer beneath the other man's coat.
"Don't feel like you have to answer, but... is that a spellbook jammed into my side or are you just happy to see me?"
It's a stupid innuendo that doesn't even work given that he's not on top of Caleb and he knows it but he's going for it anyway.
When eventually Caleb does look down again, he finds Ro smiling. He's noticed this already, but his smile really makes his face light up. And while he might be sitting a little stiffly still, he doesn't move away when the halfling leans into him.
The nonsensical innuendo startles Caleb into a wide-eyed blink before he gives another little almost-chuckle under his breath. "Or maybe I just like books," he suggests with a raised brow.
Usually, he tries to avoid sharing this information. Wizards are not so common, and many of his and Nott's cons only work if he keeps his arcane abilities hidden. But if his goblin friend is going to break the two of them out of here tonight, there is probably no avoiding Ro witnessing him doing at least a little bit of magic.
"It is. A, um, a spellbook. My spellbook. I have more knowledge of theory than practical skill at this point," he relents after a moment, again glancing away. Not out of embarassment, but more because he finds it difficult to look directly at Ro for so long while he is looking back. "I try not to draw attention to it. Sorry, I can move it if it is too uncomfortable."
"No, it's fine. I was just curious. And both surprised and impressed you hid it well enough they didn't take it."
Or maybe it had just been much easier to take things from Ro, who is more than two feet shorter than Caleb (he's guessing). Ro looks down, absently running his fingers along the embroidered hem of his shirt. It's one of his nicer ones, go figure. There's another question on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't really want to invade Caleb's privacy. The man is already sharing personal space he clearly wasn't entirely comfortable giving up in the first place.
"I've got a little book in my pack," he says with a faint smile. "I know a few ritual spells I keep in there. Just in case."
Caleb shakes his head. It really isn't so renarkable. "Most people do not usually think to search for something so valuable on a man who looks like I do." Just his disguise (nearly indistinguishable from his actual identity--so can it really be called a disguise still?) working as intended.
His expression softens as Ro mentions keeping his own little book. "That is always useful," he murmurs. "Do you use divine magic to access them? Or are they recorded with the arcane formulas, the way I would?"
Admittedly, he's always been curious about how and where these things intersect for casters using other methods. And what else is there to talk about? They have hours to wile away yet.
"Mostly divine, but I've been working on learning arcane formulas," he admits. Despite the warmth of the body next to him, a shiver makes Ro tremble briefly. "The use of components, somatics, speaking isn't all that different."
Just the source of the magic itself, he supposes. Ro wonders about that, though he's never wondered particularly hard or for extended periods of time. He's more interested in the doing.
If all of his things weren't in his bloody pack all the way over there, he thinks he could be a bit more useful in whatever escape attempt Caleb has in mind. He's been hinting at it... or at least, Ro thinks he has.
Caleb gives a thoughtful hum, but his musing is quickly set aside when he feels a distinct shiver wrack the small body curled against him. He frowns, quickly concerned again. Shivering isn't a good sign. It means Ro's body is already cold, whether he's taken notice or not.
While he has nothing more to give him to cover himself, he knows very well how best to warm up and stay warm with limited resources. Some nights, it was the only reason they made it to morning.
"You can move closer," he offers quietly. "You will only get colder if you do not. As will I, for that matter." His side feels nice, but the rest of him is distinctly chilled. "The best way would be to sit in my lap." Ah yes, he's definitely blushing again. That will keep him warm. "Not, ah--like that, of course, but. I have had to get through nights like this many times, and nothing works as well as getting close to someone else."
"Should've saved that spell book joke," he says with a weak laugh. He's grateful for the dim light, hoping it hides the warmth in his face.
He's careful as he leaves Caleb's side in favor of sitting in his lap. Clamoring on top of Caleb feels like an invasion, but Ro tries to keep firmly in mind that he's been invited - encouraged - to do exactly that. And he knows that snuggling up to Caleb's chest and stomach would help them both. Ro is small, he'll keep Caleb's core warm while gaining similar benefits. This isn't the first time he's curled up with someone against a sharp chill.
Caleb says he's had to get through a lot of nights like this, and it takes everything Ro has in him not to ask. He's aware that Caleb might be able to wrap his coat around both of them like this rather than having to keep it open for the extra shape against his side. Ro curls close and rests his head against Caleb's chest. Trying to keep space between them would kind of defeat the purpose.
Caleb remains still as Ro accepts the invitation to climb into his lap. He'd offered, but he still isn't entirely prepared for how it feels. Ro is warm and solid, though small and light, and the way they fit together is unmistakably intimate. Only when he is settled does Caleb reach for the tattered edges of his coat and pull them around them both, covering the other man's smaller body and his own.
At least he feels warmer almost immediately. Being able to close his coat fully is a big help, as is Ro's warmth against his core. He curls his arms around the halfling without hesitation, holding him close, because he knows what is needed. That doesn't make him comfortable, but he can tolerate it. He learned years ago that embarassment and propriety stop mattering when the alternative is freezing.
"Better, ja?" he murmurs, low and soft. "You will be warmer soon. We both will."
Ro breathes a quiet sigh as the coat closes around them both. Caleb is warm and living beneath him, and it's difficult to resist relaxing entirely against the other man. He feels Caleb's arms around him, the gentle weight resting against his body and holding him in place.
"Yes," he answers, just as soft. Ro's shivering stops shortly after Caleb's arms wrap around him, his body still save for the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Warmth seeps through him and it makes him feel tired - perhaps that's just the day catching up with him. Ro gives in, closing his eyes.
"Thank you, Caleb. This would have been a very difficult night without you."
Ro doesn't think he would die in the chill of the cell, but he would be in a bad state come morning without the warmth of his cellmate.
Rather than look down at the halfling in his lap or stare at the featureless stone wall across from him, Caleb decides to close his eyes as well. He tells his body when to breathe in and out, concentrating on that rather than the level of contact he is currently tolerating--and on some level, beneath the immediate discomfort, enjoying. He misses the days where he could feel close to another person like this without second-guessing it. Just as much, he feels guilty for feeling that way.
At least Ro has stopped shivering. He is doing that right, if nothing else. His chin dips down toward his chest, and he could touch his nose to Ro's dark hair. He doesn't, but he still smells plain soap, something distinctly herbal, and the familiar scent of hay, the last of which carries a sense of comfort he hadn't expected. His arms tighten just a bit, though it would be impossible to draw the other man against him any further. Ro is already relaxed where he is snuggled into his chest.
"In a way, that makes me glad to have been taken in," he murmurs. It hardly makes up for the rest of his miserable existence, but this once he has done some good. "I think I can improve it further still," he adds. Though he has already decided to share this, he must still be careful. Testing the waters, he asks, "What if I told you that we could both be out of this cell and well away from here before morning?"
"I'd ask you how," Ro answers, speaking softer now that they are well and truly close to each other. "And then I'd ask if I need or could do anything to help."
Ro isn't interested in staying here for a second longer than he needs to. Breaking out is no worse than the law that jailed him in the first place; Caleb should not be in here because someone thought he might steal something. As far as Ro is concerned, it doesn't even matter that Caleb was thinking about it at the time: he hadn't done anything.
Maybe he's being baited. The thought does occur to him, the possibility that Caleb is entrapping him somehow. But he doesn't want to doubt this man or the help being offered. He wants to believe it is genuine. He wants to believe it is possible.
That is a good sign. Caleb had expected a readiness to get out of here, but the inmediate offer of assistance bodes well. "Possibly," Caleb says, considering. "If you have any spells that could conceal our passage after we leave the building, that would be very useful. But as for getting out of the cell--we will have some outside help."
Caleb explains that he'd come here with a friend, his traveling companion, and the two of them had become separated when he was arrested. "She is very skilled at sneaking about and getting past tricky locks. I have heard from her already, and she will be returning for me in a few hours. I do not think these doors will pose a problem for her."
Which, of course, leads him to the reason for his wariness, if Ro had started to wonder why he hadn't come forward with this proposal sooner.
"But her appearance is considered...alarming by most in this area. If you are to leave with us, you must swear that you will not raise a fuss when you see her. The trust I am extending here will end swiftly if you do."
"I have ways to help if I can get back to my pack," he says softly. Ro's paying more attention now that Caleb's said there's someone else who is going to help them. He opens his eyes and peers up at the other man.
"If I know she's coming, I expect I won't be very alarmed," he says after a moment of consideration. "And if she's helping, then she's a friend."
It's as simple as that, isn't it? Ro's met all kinds of strange people, ones who others might be afraid of or consider dangerous, but so long as they're not actively trying to kill him, he doesn't see a need to react with anything other than curiosity, or at least caution.
"And I am very motivated to be out of this cell. Raising a fuss won't get us anywhere."
"That is what I hoped to hear." Caleb's relief is quiet, but present. It wasn't a mistake to share a little more with this stranger. Not yet, anyway. Ro can be trusted to act in his own self-interest, at least, which at the moment means a collaboration. "We will help you, and you will help us." A mutually beneficial exchange is familiar territory. It feels better to contextualize this new acquaintanceship that way, as something tangible, something he can understand.
He can feel Ro's eyes on him, but doesn't open his own. His head is leaned back against the cold stone behind him, and if he thinks very hard about contingencies for escaping this miserable little town, he can almost forget the weight and warmth of the halfling in his lap. But not quite.
There is what will happen after the escape to consider also. Logically, he and Nott should part ways with Ro as soon as possible. But Caleb can't help considering the alternative. What if they didn't? Surely there could be some benefit to traveling with a cleric, even if it is only for a short time. They would sacrifice a little in maneuverability, going from a pair of two to a group of three, but Nott might be less conspicuous if they have an actual halfling with them to add to the illusion. Most will look at Ro, then a similarly-sized cloaked figure, and simply assume.
But of course, he is also assuming a lot. After their obligation to one another here is done, Ro will probably not want anything to do with a washed-out wizard and a drunk goblin who just barely survive by stealing what they can and cheating hard-working folk out of their coin. Which is entirely fair.
Best to leave after for after, he decides. Making plans too soon rarely does him any good. Against Ro's back, his fingers twitch and then settle, restless. He wants to pet his cat. Then it occurs to him that he is free to, now that Ro knows about his spellbook.
"Do you like cats?" he asks, which he can recognize must seem like a rather nonsensical thing to ask out of the blue.
Ro closes his eyes, allowing the exhaustion of the day to catch up to him. He knows he cannot rest for long, not if there is to be an escape, but he can take a few minutes now. Caleb is warm and solid, the wind whistles by shutters that do nothing to keep out the chill.
He feels like he might doze off when Caleb speaks again. His eyes blink open and he peers up at Caleb curiously.
"Cats? Oh, sure. Definitely used to having a few around. Kind of impossible to avoid in a fishing village, and I haven't been on a ship yet that didn't have a couple dedicated mousers."
Even ships without cargo had mousers to keep rodents out of the food stores and away from ropes.
That answer earns an approving hum, then a muttered, "Good. Then you may meet mine."
Lifting one hand, Caleb snaps his fingers, directing his magic to connect with the well-known fey essence of his familiar to bring him forward. Opening his eyes, Caleb watches a puff of amber smoke dissipate, and the very creature he's been missing for hours now sits beside his knee, tail curled around his paws and green eyes peering up at him. Caleb instantly cracks a smile--small, but full of fondness.
Straightening up, he reaches for Frumpkin, rubbing between his ears and then scratching under his chin. The sensation of soft fur under his fingers and a rumbling purr beneath that are an immediate balm to his ragged nerves. He coos to him a little in Zemnian, telling him that he is the best boy (because he is) and he's very glad to see him.
In Common, he says, "Say hello to Ro, Frumpkin." Frumpkin gets up to pace a little closer to his side, ears pricked forward as he looks expectantly up at his human and the halfling-shaped lump beneath his coat. Cooperative as ever, he gives a soft, questioning chirp.
Ro looks confused for a moment, but then Caleb snaps his fingers and--a cat appears. He assumes it must be a familiar, but that doesn't really sate his curiosity. He's jostled a bit as Caleb straightens himself.
"Oh, hello," he says to the rather handsome cat. It's rather charming the way Caleb coos at the cat in a language Ro vaguely recognizes but does not understand. He thinks he's heard it in his travels in the Empire, especially in the countryside around Rexxentrum.
Ro's hand appears from beneath the coat so that he can offer it to the cat.
"You're quite a welcome surprise." He smiles a little when he feels the tickle of whiskers against his fingers. He is quite charmed, actually, to realize that Caleb's familiar has taken the shape of a rather handsome but otherwise common-looking cat.
A lot can be gleaned about a person, Caleb has learned, from observing how they treat a cat. Ro's initial surprise is followed quickly by warmth and curiosity as he extends a hand to Frumpkin, and Caleb instantly likes him a little more. He was getting there already, but kindness toward Frumpkin goes far in his book. The proximity he has allowed Ro so far now seems slightly less risky.
"Isn't he?" Caleb agrees, always glad for Frumpkin to be admired. Frumpkin is glad for it too, rubbing first one cheek and then the other against Ro's outstretched fingers. "You have probably guessed that he is my familiar. But more importantly, he is my cat. His name is Frumpkin, and he is a very good boy. The best."
Frumpkin purrs loudly, and he is as warm and alive-feeling as any non-fey cat, which means he is good to curl up with on cold nights.
Ro's expression softens as Frumpkin rubs against his fingers, and as Caleb talks about him like a pet. That's quite endearing. Ro moves his hand so he can scritch a little along Frumpkin's chin - the cat seemed to like that when Caleb did it.
"I could move if we'd like Frumpkin under here, too," he offers.
The cat is probably better equipped to handle the chill than either of them, he looks quite warm with his lovely fur coat. But Ro offers all the same, because he is clearly a comfort to Caleb, who has relaxed by degrees beneath him since Frumpkin appeared.
Frumpkin does like that. His neck stretches toward Ro's fingers, chin tilting up to make room for more scritches. Caleb strokes along his spine from his head all the way to the end of his tail, which is raised and swaying gently in the air.
"Ah, no need," he assures quickly, though the offer is a kind one. "But--thank you. He does not get cold, so he will be okay laying beside us."
If he is close enough to pet, for Caleb to take comfort from his warmth and his purring, it will be fine. Already Frumpkin's presence has his chest feeling a little lighter, his breathing deeper, and his hands have stopped flexing and tapping, given something to do. Even the one on Ro's back, not currently occupied, has fallen still.
Ro nods and settles against Caleb again. He withdraws his hand back beneath the coat and closes his eyes again.
"If I fall asleep, wake me when your friend comes and I will do what I can to help," he murmurs. Frumpkin is here and apparently gives Caleb a good deal of comfort and Ro finds himself responding to that, too. A short rest won't hurt his ability to help their cause; if anything, it might make him more able when the time comes.
Not long after he gives the warning, Ro drifts off. He's learned to sleep in worse places, and getting scraps of rest here and there isn't uncommon on a hard voyage. He isn't entirely sure how long he's been out when he's softly startled awake. He takes a sharp breath as he comes to and it takes him a few seconds to recall where he is and why he's snuggled up with a relative stranger.
Ro rubs his eyes before he blinks them open.
"Is it time?" he whispers, still a bit groggy but coming around quickly.
Caleb doesn't sleep, though he does let himself relax for a little while, as much as is possible. Frumpkin curls into a ball beside him, and he keeps a hand on him, the other still holding Ro to his chest as the halfling drifts off. The trust displayed by that alone is remarkable, and Caleb thinks about it a great deal as the hours pass. The vulnerability of falling asleep cradled against a stranger, the foolish courage it takes. He could never. In a way, he envies Ro this.
He gets Nott's Message at 4:36 in the morning. She sounds a little bit tipsy, but not enough that he worries. She probably needed some booze in her belly to stay warm this night. He replies at a whisper, telling her that he is ready and informing her about their tag-along, and Ro slumbers on.
It takes her less than five minutes after that to get into the building. The soft snick of a lock opening is nearly inaudible. The creak of the door is louder. Ro stirs, and Caleb looks down to see a sleep-soft expression rapidly sharpening with awareness. Good.
"Ja," he murmurs. "She is here."
From across the room, the sound of a reedy voice in a harsh whisper is sweeter than any music. Thank the gods for Nott the Brave.
"Caleb? Caleb! Are you okay?"
Her eyes appear first, round lamplit yellow in the darkness beyond the circle of flickering light cast by the lamp on the table, nearly burned out. He's already told her twice now that he's okay, but he'll repeat it as many times as she needs. "I am cold and sore, but otherwise fine. Ready to get the fuck out of here."
Crouched, Nott scurries from her hiding place to the bars of the cell, finally revealing herself as she peers in. Her hood is pulled up to cover her long ears and shadow her face, but her mask is down, revealing sharp, jagged teeth. Little clawed fingers curl around the bars, and her slitted pupils expand to see into the darkness the same way that Frumpkin's do.
"I knew it! You're not fine!" She accuses, pointing at his split lip, the sting of which has long since faded into the background for him, along with his other aches and bruises. Somehow she manages to whisper with the exact same energy as her shouting. "Who did this to you? I'll kill them!" Her eyes narrow, glaring with endearing suspicion at the halfling emerging from his coat. "It wasn't this guy, was it?"
"Nein, Nott," Caleb assures quickly, but he's smiling. His hand remains on Ro's back, if only as a show of support. Beside him, Frumpkin yawns and stretches. "He offered to heal me, in fact. Ro, meet Nott the Brave. Nott, this is Ro."
Nott is already pulling her flask from her hip and unscrewing it, taking a long swig of what smells to Caleb more like paint thinner than alcohol. Whatever works.
It takes Ro a moment to really focus on their rescuer, and when he does he realizes why Caleb warned him. Or rather, he realizes why Caleb is protective of her: she's a goblin.
He slides off the other man's lap and away from the comfortable warmth they've shared. Ro takes a sharper breath as he's exposed to the cold again.
"Hello, Nott the Brave," he says softly. Ro stretches carefully and realizes he's still wrapped in Caleb's scarf. Reluctantly, he unwinds it from his body so he can offer it back.
"Thank you," he murmurs, keeping his voice low even if the jail is empty save for them. Ro hangs back, allowing Caleb to get up and approach the cell door while Nott works on picking thr lock.
"I'm going to go for my pack as soon as the door is open," he warns both of them. "I need my coat and focus. But uhm... Nott, may I touch your hand? I can give you a little luck."
Maybe a bit of Guidance will help, if she allows it.
Caleb accepts the return of his scarf and winds it back around his neck. He can't help noticing the sweet scent of hay on it now. He holds a hand out for Frumpkin, who leaps up onto his shoulders before he gets his legs under him and pushes up to his feet with a wince. Hours sitting on cold stone in more or less the same position have left his body stiff and achey, but he pushes through it as he goes to meet Nott by the door of the cell.
As soon as it's open, they'll collect what they need from within the jail and go. He gives Ro a nod when he says he's planning to do just that. With any luck, no one will even know they're gone until morning.
"I got all the luck I need right here," Nott declares with confidence, shaking her flask. It sounds nearly empty. She frowns. "Shit, maybe not. Lay it on me." Her arm fits easily through the bars, hand outstretched. After a tap from Ro, she gets out her lock picks and sets to work.
For all the shady training he'd had in his youth, Caleb has never met anyone as sneaky as Nott. For all that she can be a loud, opinionated person, she has a gift for stealth--and for picking locks. It's mere seconds before the mechanism releases with a soft grind of metal and Nott gives a shark-toothed grin. "Easy. Now let's fucking go."
Caleb couldn't agree more. He pushes the door open slowly, in case it is loud, but his care pays off, and it makes little noise. He goes to the table to look for the small pouch containing a few coins they'd taken off him, and anything else he might consider useful. It's a pretty bare bones operation in here, and he finds little of interest, except for the book logging the names and physical descriptions of prisoners, and the reason for their arrest. The last two are Bernard Schreiber (a false name to protect another false name) and Alaric Sandheaver, a halfling. Interesting.
Quickly and neatly, he tears that last page from the book. With a whisper that calls forth a small burst of flame, it ignites in his hand, burning away to ash in seconds. He doesn't need his physical description appearing in any Crownsguard records, even under a pseudonym.
"Is it all there?" he asks Ro, turning to face him as the other man checks his pack.
With a few soft words and a quick gesture, Ro offers Nott a bit of guidance before he steps back to give her room. He lets Caleb pass him, then slips out after. He goes straight to the pack left against a wall and takes out an appropriate-looking coat. He slips that on first, then a pair of fingerless gloves, and finally a pendant that he promptly slips under his shirt.
"It's all still here," he answers when Caleb asks. He slips his pack on and gets a hand on his staff. Feathers and a few beads or stones are tied near the end of it. He looks at the other two people he's with, trying to think fast.
"I can make one of you invisible," he says softly. "I think perhaps it should be Caleb."
He's taller than Nott and Ro, after all, and it makes the most sense.
"I can disguise myself." He looks at Nott, brow knit. There's less he can offer her, other than the guidance she already has. "Can we go out the same way you came in?"
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He's trying to keep a smile at bay, but it hides in his voice. Ro shifts a bit, just trying to be comfortable without being a complete lump against Caleb's side. He doesn't want to make him uncomfortable, either.
The smile creeps across his face eventually. Ro adjusts Caleb's scarf around him, wrapping more of it around his neck now that the rest of him is safer beneath the other man's coat.
"Don't feel like you have to answer, but... is that a spellbook jammed into my side or are you just happy to see me?"
It's a stupid innuendo that doesn't even work given that he's not on top of Caleb and he knows it but he's going for it anyway.
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The nonsensical innuendo startles Caleb into a wide-eyed blink before he gives another little almost-chuckle under his breath. "Or maybe I just like books," he suggests with a raised brow.
Usually, he tries to avoid sharing this information. Wizards are not so common, and many of his and Nott's cons only work if he keeps his arcane abilities hidden. But if his goblin friend is going to break the two of them out of here tonight, there is probably no avoiding Ro witnessing him doing at least a little bit of magic.
"It is. A, um, a spellbook. My spellbook. I have more knowledge of theory than practical skill at this point," he relents after a moment, again glancing away. Not out of embarassment, but more because he finds it difficult to look directly at Ro for so long while he is looking back. "I try not to draw attention to it. Sorry, I can move it if it is too uncomfortable."
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Or maybe it had just been much easier to take things from Ro, who is more than two feet shorter than Caleb (he's guessing). Ro looks down, absently running his fingers along the embroidered hem of his shirt. It's one of his nicer ones, go figure. There's another question on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't really want to invade Caleb's privacy. The man is already sharing personal space he clearly wasn't entirely comfortable giving up in the first place.
"I've got a little book in my pack," he says with a faint smile. "I know a few ritual spells I keep in there. Just in case."
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His expression softens as Ro mentions keeping his own little book. "That is always useful," he murmurs. "Do you use divine magic to access them? Or are they recorded with the arcane formulas, the way I would?"
Admittedly, he's always been curious about how and where these things intersect for casters using other methods. And what else is there to talk about? They have hours to wile away yet.
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Just the source of the magic itself, he supposes. Ro wonders about that, though he's never wondered particularly hard or for extended periods of time. He's more interested in the doing.
If all of his things weren't in his bloody pack all the way over there, he thinks he could be a bit more useful in whatever escape attempt Caleb has in mind. He's been hinting at it... or at least, Ro thinks he has.
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While he has nothing more to give him to cover himself, he knows very well how best to warm up and stay warm with limited resources. Some nights, it was the only reason they made it to morning.
"You can move closer," he offers quietly. "You will only get colder if you do not. As will I, for that matter." His side feels nice, but the rest of him is distinctly chilled. "The best way would be to sit in my lap." Ah yes, he's definitely blushing again. That will keep him warm. "Not, ah--like that, of course, but. I have had to get through nights like this many times, and nothing works as well as getting close to someone else."
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He's careful as he leaves Caleb's side in favor of sitting in his lap. Clamoring on top of Caleb feels like an invasion, but Ro tries to keep firmly in mind that he's been invited - encouraged - to do exactly that. And he knows that snuggling up to Caleb's chest and stomach would help them both. Ro is small, he'll keep Caleb's core warm while gaining similar benefits. This isn't the first time he's curled up with someone against a sharp chill.
Caleb says he's had to get through a lot of nights like this, and it takes everything Ro has in him not to ask. He's aware that Caleb might be able to wrap his coat around both of them like this rather than having to keep it open for the extra shape against his side. Ro curls close and rests his head against Caleb's chest. Trying to keep space between them would kind of defeat the purpose.
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At least he feels warmer almost immediately. Being able to close his coat fully is a big help, as is Ro's warmth against his core. He curls his arms around the halfling without hesitation, holding him close, because he knows what is needed. That doesn't make him comfortable, but he can tolerate it. He learned years ago that embarassment and propriety stop mattering when the alternative is freezing.
"Better, ja?" he murmurs, low and soft. "You will be warmer soon. We both will."
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"Yes," he answers, just as soft. Ro's shivering stops shortly after Caleb's arms wrap around him, his body still save for the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Warmth seeps through him and it makes him feel tired - perhaps that's just the day catching up with him. Ro gives in, closing his eyes.
"Thank you, Caleb. This would have been a very difficult night without you."
Ro doesn't think he would die in the chill of the cell, but he would be in a bad state come morning without the warmth of his cellmate.
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At least Ro has stopped shivering. He is doing that right, if nothing else. His chin dips down toward his chest, and he could touch his nose to Ro's dark hair. He doesn't, but he still smells plain soap, something distinctly herbal, and the familiar scent of hay, the last of which carries a sense of comfort he hadn't expected. His arms tighten just a bit, though it would be impossible to draw the other man against him any further. Ro is already relaxed where he is snuggled into his chest.
"In a way, that makes me glad to have been taken in," he murmurs. It hardly makes up for the rest of his miserable existence, but this once he has done some good. "I think I can improve it further still," he adds. Though he has already decided to share this, he must still be careful. Testing the waters, he asks, "What if I told you that we could both be out of this cell and well away from here before morning?"
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Ro isn't interested in staying here for a second longer than he needs to. Breaking out is no worse than the law that jailed him in the first place; Caleb should not be in here because someone thought he might steal something. As far as Ro is concerned, it doesn't even matter that Caleb was thinking about it at the time: he hadn't done anything.
Maybe he's being baited. The thought does occur to him, the possibility that Caleb is entrapping him somehow. But he doesn't want to doubt this man or the help being offered. He wants to believe it is genuine. He wants to believe it is possible.
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Caleb explains that he'd come here with a friend, his traveling companion, and the two of them had become separated when he was arrested. "She is very skilled at sneaking about and getting past tricky locks. I have heard from her already, and she will be returning for me in a few hours. I do not think these doors will pose a problem for her."
Which, of course, leads him to the reason for his wariness, if Ro had started to wonder why he hadn't come forward with this proposal sooner.
"But her appearance is considered...alarming by most in this area. If you are to leave with us, you must swear that you will not raise a fuss when you see her. The trust I am extending here will end swiftly if you do."
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"If I know she's coming, I expect I won't be very alarmed," he says after a moment of consideration. "And if she's helping, then she's a friend."
It's as simple as that, isn't it? Ro's met all kinds of strange people, ones who others might be afraid of or consider dangerous, but so long as they're not actively trying to kill him, he doesn't see a need to react with anything other than curiosity, or at least caution.
"And I am very motivated to be out of this cell. Raising a fuss won't get us anywhere."
And it will apparently get him left behind.
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He can feel Ro's eyes on him, but doesn't open his own. His head is leaned back against the cold stone behind him, and if he thinks very hard about contingencies for escaping this miserable little town, he can almost forget the weight and warmth of the halfling in his lap. But not quite.
There is what will happen after the escape to consider also. Logically, he and Nott should part ways with Ro as soon as possible. But Caleb can't help considering the alternative. What if they didn't? Surely there could be some benefit to traveling with a cleric, even if it is only for a short time. They would sacrifice a little in maneuverability, going from a pair of two to a group of three, but Nott might be less conspicuous if they have an actual halfling with them to add to the illusion. Most will look at Ro, then a similarly-sized cloaked figure, and simply assume.
But of course, he is also assuming a lot. After their obligation to one another here is done, Ro will probably not want anything to do with a washed-out wizard and a drunk goblin who just barely survive by stealing what they can and cheating hard-working folk out of their coin. Which is entirely fair.
Best to leave after for after, he decides. Making plans too soon rarely does him any good. Against Ro's back, his fingers twitch and then settle, restless. He wants to pet his cat. Then it occurs to him that he is free to, now that Ro knows about his spellbook.
"Do you like cats?" he asks, which he can recognize must seem like a rather nonsensical thing to ask out of the blue.
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He feels like he might doze off when Caleb speaks again. His eyes blink open and he peers up at Caleb curiously.
"Cats? Oh, sure. Definitely used to having a few around. Kind of impossible to avoid in a fishing village, and I haven't been on a ship yet that didn't have a couple dedicated mousers."
Even ships without cargo had mousers to keep rodents out of the food stores and away from ropes.
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Lifting one hand, Caleb snaps his fingers, directing his magic to connect with the well-known fey essence of his familiar to bring him forward. Opening his eyes, Caleb watches a puff of amber smoke dissipate, and the very creature he's been missing for hours now sits beside his knee, tail curled around his paws and green eyes peering up at him. Caleb instantly cracks a smile--small, but full of fondness.
Straightening up, he reaches for Frumpkin, rubbing between his ears and then scratching under his chin. The sensation of soft fur under his fingers and a rumbling purr beneath that are an immediate balm to his ragged nerves. He coos to him a little in Zemnian, telling him that he is the best boy (because he is) and he's very glad to see him.
In Common, he says, "Say hello to Ro, Frumpkin." Frumpkin gets up to pace a little closer to his side, ears pricked forward as he looks expectantly up at his human and the halfling-shaped lump beneath his coat. Cooperative as ever, he gives a soft, questioning chirp.
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"Oh, hello," he says to the rather handsome cat. It's rather charming the way Caleb coos at the cat in a language Ro vaguely recognizes but does not understand. He thinks he's heard it in his travels in the Empire, especially in the countryside around Rexxentrum.
Ro's hand appears from beneath the coat so that he can offer it to the cat.
"You're quite a welcome surprise." He smiles a little when he feels the tickle of whiskers against his fingers. He is quite charmed, actually, to realize that Caleb's familiar has taken the shape of a rather handsome but otherwise common-looking cat.
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"Isn't he?" Caleb agrees, always glad for Frumpkin to be admired. Frumpkin is glad for it too, rubbing first one cheek and then the other against Ro's outstretched fingers. "You have probably guessed that he is my familiar. But more importantly, he is my cat. His name is Frumpkin, and he is a very good boy. The best."
Frumpkin purrs loudly, and he is as warm and alive-feeling as any non-fey cat, which means he is good to curl up with on cold nights.
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"I could move if we'd like Frumpkin under here, too," he offers.
The cat is probably better equipped to handle the chill than either of them, he looks quite warm with his lovely fur coat. But Ro offers all the same, because he is clearly a comfort to Caleb, who has relaxed by degrees beneath him since Frumpkin appeared.
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"Ah, no need," he assures quickly, though the offer is a kind one. "But--thank you. He does not get cold, so he will be okay laying beside us."
If he is close enough to pet, for Caleb to take comfort from his warmth and his purring, it will be fine. Already Frumpkin's presence has his chest feeling a little lighter, his breathing deeper, and his hands have stopped flexing and tapping, given something to do. Even the one on Ro's back, not currently occupied, has fallen still.
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"If I fall asleep, wake me when your friend comes and I will do what I can to help," he murmurs. Frumpkin is here and apparently gives Caleb a good deal of comfort and Ro finds himself responding to that, too. A short rest won't hurt his ability to help their cause; if anything, it might make him more able when the time comes.
Not long after he gives the warning, Ro drifts off. He's learned to sleep in worse places, and getting scraps of rest here and there isn't uncommon on a hard voyage. He isn't entirely sure how long he's been out when he's softly startled awake. He takes a sharp breath as he comes to and it takes him a few seconds to recall where he is and why he's snuggled up with a relative stranger.
Ro rubs his eyes before he blinks them open.
"Is it time?" he whispers, still a bit groggy but coming around quickly.
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He gets Nott's Message at 4:36 in the morning. She sounds a little bit tipsy, but not enough that he worries. She probably needed some booze in her belly to stay warm this night. He replies at a whisper, telling her that he is ready and informing her about their tag-along, and Ro slumbers on.
It takes her less than five minutes after that to get into the building. The soft snick of a lock opening is nearly inaudible. The creak of the door is louder. Ro stirs, and Caleb looks down to see a sleep-soft expression rapidly sharpening with awareness. Good.
"Ja," he murmurs. "She is here."
From across the room, the sound of a reedy voice in a harsh whisper is sweeter than any music. Thank the gods for Nott the Brave.
"Caleb? Caleb! Are you okay?"
Her eyes appear first, round lamplit yellow in the darkness beyond the circle of flickering light cast by the lamp on the table, nearly burned out. He's already told her twice now that he's okay, but he'll repeat it as many times as she needs. "I am cold and sore, but otherwise fine. Ready to get the fuck out of here."
Crouched, Nott scurries from her hiding place to the bars of the cell, finally revealing herself as she peers in. Her hood is pulled up to cover her long ears and shadow her face, but her mask is down, revealing sharp, jagged teeth. Little clawed fingers curl around the bars, and her slitted pupils expand to see into the darkness the same way that Frumpkin's do.
"I knew it! You're not fine!" She accuses, pointing at his split lip, the sting of which has long since faded into the background for him, along with his other aches and bruises. Somehow she manages to whisper with the exact same energy as her shouting. "Who did this to you? I'll kill them!" Her eyes narrow, glaring with endearing suspicion at the halfling emerging from his coat. "It wasn't this guy, was it?"
"Nein, Nott," Caleb assures quickly, but he's smiling. His hand remains on Ro's back, if only as a show of support. Beside him, Frumpkin yawns and stretches. "He offered to heal me, in fact. Ro, meet Nott the Brave. Nott, this is Ro."
Nott is already pulling her flask from her hip and unscrewing it, taking a long swig of what smells to Caleb more like paint thinner than alcohol. Whatever works.
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He slides off the other man's lap and away from the comfortable warmth they've shared. Ro takes a sharper breath as he's exposed to the cold again.
"Hello, Nott the Brave," he says softly. Ro stretches carefully and realizes he's still wrapped in Caleb's scarf. Reluctantly, he unwinds it from his body so he can offer it back.
"Thank you," he murmurs, keeping his voice low even if the jail is empty save for them. Ro hangs back, allowing Caleb to get up and approach the cell door while Nott works on picking thr lock.
"I'm going to go for my pack as soon as the door is open," he warns both of them. "I need my coat and focus. But uhm... Nott, may I touch your hand? I can give you a little luck."
Maybe a bit of Guidance will help, if she allows it.
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As soon as it's open, they'll collect what they need from within the jail and go. He gives Ro a nod when he says he's planning to do just that. With any luck, no one will even know they're gone until morning.
"I got all the luck I need right here," Nott declares with confidence, shaking her flask. It sounds nearly empty. She frowns. "Shit, maybe not. Lay it on me." Her arm fits easily through the bars, hand outstretched. After a tap from Ro, she gets out her lock picks and sets to work.
For all the shady training he'd had in his youth, Caleb has never met anyone as sneaky as Nott. For all that she can be a loud, opinionated person, she has a gift for stealth--and for picking locks. It's mere seconds before the mechanism releases with a soft grind of metal and Nott gives a shark-toothed grin. "Easy. Now let's fucking go."
Caleb couldn't agree more. He pushes the door open slowly, in case it is loud, but his care pays off, and it makes little noise. He goes to the table to look for the small pouch containing a few coins they'd taken off him, and anything else he might consider useful. It's a pretty bare bones operation in here, and he finds little of interest, except for the book logging the names and physical descriptions of prisoners, and the reason for their arrest. The last two are Bernard Schreiber (a false name to protect another false name) and Alaric Sandheaver, a halfling. Interesting.
Quickly and neatly, he tears that last page from the book. With a whisper that calls forth a small burst of flame, it ignites in his hand, burning away to ash in seconds. He doesn't need his physical description appearing in any Crownsguard records, even under a pseudonym.
"Is it all there?" he asks Ro, turning to face him as the other man checks his pack.
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"It's all still here," he answers when Caleb asks. He slips his pack on and gets a hand on his staff. Feathers and a few beads or stones are tied near the end of it. He looks at the other two people he's with, trying to think fast.
"I can make one of you invisible," he says softly. "I think perhaps it should be Caleb."
He's taller than Nott and Ro, after all, and it makes the most sense.
"I can disguise myself." He looks at Nott, brow knit. There's less he can offer her, other than the guidance she already has. "Can we go out the same way you came in?"
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