The smile from Caleb feels worth a few hours' work. Ro grabs his lute and hands off his pack to Caleb as he and Nott go to find somewhere to sit. He sits on the low stage and puts out the bowl he typically uses to collect alms (when he even bothers) and tunes the lute before he jumps into the set.
He keeps it light for the most part - maybe not everyone will know all of the songs, but there's enough that are familiar that some can sing along or tap their feet to familiar beats. After a few songs, someone from the village joins him with a hand drum and the pair of them make a good go of it.
Ro is a cleric, but he sings well and he can command a crowd on a good day. His smile is easy and bright. Once or twice, he seems to pick someone to sing to - including one of the serving maids as she delivers food to Caleb and Nott.
"From Westrunn way to the Open Quay, from Emon to Ank'harel, no maid I've seen like the fair cailín that I met in the Marrow Vale." Ro winks at her and is gratified with a roll of her eyes and a smile as she passes by again. He grins and turns his attention elsewhere to get more of the crowd going.
Whatever evenings are like in the village, tonight at least the tavern is lively. Ro looks up when Caleb appears with a stein and he flashes a grateful smile when he realizes it's for him. He stops playing so that he can take it and Caleb barely has time to pull his hand away before Ro takes a drink. It's cool enough to be perfect and it soothes the dry feeling in his throat.
"Thank you," he says, heartfelt. "Haven't had to sing over a crowd in a little while." Ro sets the stein close, but not where it might get knocked over. He looks up at Caleb again. "Think I'll wrap this up in a few more. I'm getting hungry."
Ro's smile is genuine enough that it stirs an answering one from Caleb, a bit shy. He feels a little heat rise in his cheeks, but blames the beer. This is an entirely normal interaction, there's no reason to be flustered. Stay on task, Widogast.
"You have earned it," he says warmly, "singing for our supper. Come and join us soon. I will tell Miranda you are ready to eat." He nods toward the barmaid who's been serving them tonight, the same one Ro singled out during his last song. Caleb makes it a habit to learn names. It's often useful, and with his memory, a trifle.
He thinks to comment further--on Ro's singing, on how much he'd enjoyed the last song especially--but realizes he's taking up time where he could be playing, finishing his set so he can get to his dinner. His flush deepens, and he takes a step back. "The last one was, ah--I liked it a lot," he says quickly, aware of his awkwardness, but unable to help it. Rather than make it worse, he retreats.
At their table, Nott gives him a sympathetic pat on the knee as she finishes her whiskey.
Ro's smile gets a little softer and warmer when Caleb offers the shy, slightly awkward compliment. He doesn't respond other than the smile, taking his cue to get back to his set. He takes another long drink from his stein before he starts playing again, something appropriately rowdy for the drummer to shine. It's been a while since he had the chance to play with other musicians, and Ro harbors some hope that he'll run into more opportunities in Deastok.
Before the end of the song, Ro's standing on the chair he's been sitting in, just so he can be seen by more of the tavern.
The next few songs keep the energy up and the drummer joins in singing those. If he closes his eyes, Ro thinks he could be home. If he closes his eyes, it's enough to ache for it. So he opens them again to appreciate the people here and now. He closes the set with something that'll wind down the energy a bit, something that saves him a bit of singing. When he finishes, he stands on his chair again to take a bow and thank the tavern for a good time. The drummer keeps on, but Ro hops down and collects his alms bowl: there's several coppers and a few silvers, so he'll take it. He splits it, leaving half for the drummer before he goes to join Caleb and Nott.
Aware the table isn't quite made for small folks, even though he's sure he saw some halflings in the crowd, Ro kneels on the bench rather than fully sitting. His voice is just a bit scratchy when he thanks Miranda for delivering his food. He looks a bit shyly at Caleb and Nott.
"The pair of you don't have to wait for me, if you don't want. I'm sure the room's ready."
Nott gets more whiskey, but Caleb continues to nurse the same beer throughout the remainder of Ro's set. The mood in the tavern was comfortable but quiet when they arrived. Now, with the addition of music, it is lively. The chatter of other patrons is louder, and as Caleb observes, more relaxed. It's nice. A good atmosphere for watching and fading into the background. There are moments when he wants to do more than that, when he wants to dance, which he hasn't in a very long time. That won't happen, of course. But Ro is good at this, and Caleb lets himself enjoy listening, at least. Quietly, inconspicuously.
When Ro finishes up and joins them, quickly receiving a hot plate for his troubles, Caleb smiles tentatively at him across the table. Nott, who is kneeling so she can peer over the surface of the table, shrugs. "Eh, I'm good," she says mildly. "I'm still drinking."
"We do not mind keeping you company," Caleb adds, the husk of his accent more pronounced as he speaks just loudly enough to be heard. "You are the reason we were able to eat tonight at all."
"Yeah, those were fun tunes," Nott pipes up again. Well into her second glass, she is noticeably less high-strung than usual, her normally twitchy body language relaxed. Good for her. Ever since Caleb's known her, she's needed booze to be anything less than a tiny green ball of anxiety. In many ways, he can relate.
Caleb's beer has gone warm, but there is less than half left anyway. He takes a measured sip. He doesn't need an excuse to linger, but having one gives him some plausible deniability. It isn't just that he wants to remain with his new friend. Maybe he, like Nott, is still drinking. "It is also your room. Enjoy your meal. We will go up when you are ready."
Ro rolls his eyes and smiles a bit. "Our room," he insists. He didn't just get it for himself, after all, when Caleb and Nott more than earned a soft bed at his expense for springing him from the jail.
That's the most fight he puts up, though. He's glad for the company and he focuses on filling his belly before he gets distracted. He puts away a good bit of food for such a little guy, but then he just burned a considerable bit of energy. He doesn't rush, though, allowing himself to enjoy the feel of the tavern now that it's buzzing with the drummer still playing in the background. Ro takes a moment to look around, and if he lets his focus go hazy, he really could be home.
When he does finish, he sits back a bit, resting on his heels as he nurses his drink until that, too, is gone. He feels warm and comfortable for the first time in days, and he knows there are baths in the future. With an empty plate and mug, he looks at his companions.
"Shall we?" he asks as he slides off the bench. Nott waves them off, saying she has more drinking to do. Ro's glad when Caleb gets up, though.
"Do you want the bath first?" he offers on their way up the stairs.
Caleb isn't surprised that Nott wishes to remain downstairs, given access to a bar for the first time in several weeks. But he does warn her to be careful, and to come up right away if anyone starts giving her second glances. Only when she promises to do so does he feel comfortable downing the last of his beer and joining Ro in heading up to their room.
He feels Nott's absence immediately. With her around, there is a bit of a social buffer. Alone with Ro, his awkward, nervous energy can't slip under the radar as easily. He scrutinizes his own behavior, which in turn makes him more self-conscious. It's been a long time since he's concerned himself with what another person thinks of him. Normally he keeps interaction to a minimum and tries to be forgettable. With Nott, they were both obvious outcasts. There was never any reason to pretend at normalcy with her.
"Nein. You should go first," he insists, because of course Ro is polite enough to offer, but he must refuse. He is frankly pretty filthy, and Ro deserves clean water. Caleb will be glad for the chance to wash up at all. "I would like to set up my Alarm, and that takes a few minutes."
The room is nice, by Caleb's estimation. A little better than a typical roadside inn, even. Nothing fancy, of course, but it is a solid structure with four walls and a roof, it is clean, and the fire already burning in a modest hearth counteracts any draft there might be from the small window. The space is small and the furniture sparse, but sturdy. A bed large enough for an adult human (not a problem; Ro and Nott can share, and he will be fine on the floor), a woven rug, a little table with a single chair, and a truly beautiful sight: a good-sized metal tub filled with steaming water. There is even a simple privacy screen set up beside it.
Caleb closes the door behind them and allows himself a single soft sigh. A hardy meal, a beer, a private room, and a bath. It feels like luxury.
"This is very good," he says, half to himself, shrugging off his coat. The fire has already heated the room to a comfortable temperature, so he won't have to wear it tonight. Reaching into his component pouch, his fingers automatically find the spool of endless silver thread.
"I won't take too long," he promises. He wants Caleb to have a good bath, he deserves that (if anyone is asking Ro). He smiles when Caleb comments on the room, pleased with himself and with how this turned out. It is a good room, and the bath and fire make it even more so.
Ro removes a few things from his pack before stowing it beneath the bed. And maybe his gaze lingers a little longer than it needs to when he's reminded that Caleb keeps his component pouch on his thigh. Oh, he really shouldn't think of that.
While Caleb works on setting his alarm, Ro strips off his layers. He's careful to drape his clothes over the corner of the bed for now, not really wanting to leave them on the floor.
He's quite a sturdy little fellow with strong legs and arms, his body built by years on ships. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about him is the tattoo that climbs his left arm from wrist to shoulder: waves roiling across his skin, with a white moon at the apex. Ro leaves his smalls on for now, thinking he probably shouldn't just get naked. He can do that on the other side of the screen. He pulls his hair loose as he goes, happy to see the soap waiting there.
Ro reminds himself that he promised Caleb he'd be quick.
Caleb gets started with his ritual right away. And he really does try not to let his eyes (or his mind) wander to the man undressing less than ten feet from him, but the reality is that it is a very small room, and he has to run his wire around the entire perimeter, which means catching glimpses as he moves is unavoidable.
For Caleb, noticing that someone is good-looking with all their clothes on is a bit like a tap on the shoulder. Hey, look at that. Distracting sometimes, but generally something he can ignore if he tries. As Ro strips down in the periphery of his vision, the awareness of his own attraction is more like a slap in the face. Much harder to brush off, and the ache lasts longer than the initial sharp sting of impact.
Proportionally, Ro is small, of course. But his build is stout and strong, and in some places, invitingly soft. Caleb is too late to banish the thought before it occurs that his own hands would likely easily encompass many appealing parts of his halfling companion's body, should his touch be welcome. The tattoo, somehow, is the last thing he notices. But that is what gives him away, because he ends up lingering too long on taking in the artwork, which is really quite remarkable. Ro glances up, their eyes meet, and Caleb somehow freezes and spontaneously immolates at the same time.
"Sorry, I did not mean to--um, to--" He quickly stammers out a completely inadequate apology in a guilty rush, berating himself inwardly for his disgraceful behavior. Ro is only the second person in years he's spent more than a few hours with, and here he is repaying him for his kindness by furtively eyeing him up when the man is just trying to take a bath. His face is already blazing, and he swallows thickly, his mouth suddenly dry and voice coarse as sandpaper. "I did not know. About this." He touches his own left arm to indicate Ro's tattoo, and then quickly looks away. Which he really should have done immediately, but his muscles only now remember how to move.
It takes Ro a second too long to realize Caleb was looking at his tattoo, not him, and he feels a little ashamed of thinking - maybe hoping - otherwise. Heat stains his cheeks and Ro lingers a moment, absently running his fingers over familiar lines and swirls.
"I didn't have a lot of reason to strip down to bare arms," he says with a smile. "Or even roll up my sleeves. Suppose I should show it off more, it took forever to finish."
It's been cold and none of them have been inclined to undress too far on the road. Ro peers over at Caleb again before he makes himself step out of view so he can push off his smalls. The tub is human-sized, but Ro manages to get in without much issue. The hot water makes him groan and he submerges himself entirely just a breath later. He scrubs his fingers along his scalp before resurfacing, pushing his hair back as he goes.
"Gods, that set was worth this," he sighs. He reminds himself he promised Caleb he wouldn't take forever. He tries not to let his mind wander too far, even if he keeps picturing how Caleb was blushing as he looked away to finish his ritual. Ro can admit to himself he's been flirting a bit, bit he doesn't expect much to come from it.
Caleb isn't in the habit of thanking the gods, but in this instance, it seems appropriate. Ro doesn't seem offended, or even particularly put off by Caleb's incidentally crude attention, or even his tactless excuse of an apology. He carries on as if nothing out of the ordinary happened at all, which is unspeakably kind of him, really.
"It must have been quite an ordeal," he manages to say, sounding stilted to his own ear, but at least managing to carry on a facsimile of a normal conversation. Hearing the quiet patter of bare feet against the floorboards means he can assume Ro has probably gone behind the screen. "But the result is impressive."
Though the thought of tattooing makes his skin crawl, arms itching worse than usual beneath their wraps (bad associations with sharp objects and permanent body alterations), he can appreciate the artistry to a degree, at least. Ro wears his well.
With focus on his ritual casting completely broken by that embarrassing little exchange, he's forced to start the spell over, which is really the least of what he deserves. It's actually sort of mortifying, having to rewind the wire to begin again knowing that Ro will notice and be well aware it is because he lost concentration. But he can only resolve not to repeat his mistake.
Ro groans as he sinks into the tub, and Caleb's jaw clenches. Stay on task, Widogast.
"Soak a little, if you like," he encourages fretfully. Putting the end of the silver wire to the wall and getting started on Alarm again, he acknowledges that he'll have to redo the side of the room he initially began with, but there's time. "I am in no rush. The bath is not going anywhere."
"More than I thought it'd be at the time," he says with a wan smile. "First the line work was done, then a few weeks later the color."
Ro absently runs his hand over the tattoo as he cleans up. "I think this is the farthest I've ever been from an ocean," he admits.
It takes him a moment to realize Caleb has started his ritual casting over and Ro feels his face get a little warm - he really shouldn't be chattering away while he's trying to cast, he knows how annoying it can be to have to start over.
"Sorry you had to start over," he says, sounding almost shy. He wasn't trying to distract Caleb on purpose. Ro focuses on cleaning himself up, mindful of where Caleb is in the room as he works through setting the alarm again. Despite his determination to not be distracting, Ro barely thinks about it as he sings quietly to himself.
"Between the winds, between the waves. Between the sands, between the shores. From the shell comes the song of the sea, neither quiet nor calm. Searching for home again, my love."
That he's sung half the evening away doesn't seem to dampen the urge.
Rather than reply right away, Caleb continues casting. It would be a real embarrassment if he got distracted enough that he had to begin his ritual again a second time. As he moves around the room with his silver thread, he keeps his eyes down and his concentration on his spell, especially as he retraces his steps.
It's only a minute, but it feels like longer. He feels the spell take effect, the awareness of it in the back of his mind. He, Nott, and Ro will be allowed in and out. If anyone else crosses the threshold in either direction, he'll know.
Ro is singing again, and it seems a shame to interrupt him. Listening, Caleb sits down in the single chair, back to the screen and the bath behind it, and begins undoing the straps keeping his component pouch secured around his thigh.
"It is not your fault," he says softly, finally, when Ro's song fades. (He's never been so far from an ocean. Yes, that's clear. He can hear it.) "That I had to start over. I should have been paying more attention to what I was doing." His component pouch is laid carefully on top of the small table, and his hands go to the buckles of his book holster next. "You are sure that you want to continue north? It will take a long time to get back to the ocean."
Ro smiles as he combs his fingers through his hair, doing his best to get the tangles out. He can hear Caleb taking things off on the other side of the screen and he tries not to let his mind linger on that too long.
"I need to get to Deastock," he says after a moment. "After that, I can turn back to the sea. Either west over the Cyrios range or I'll go back south to the Wyun Gates."
The latter is the longer way, but possibly the safer. Ro's studied maps every chance he gets and he knows that over the mountains from Deastock is Othe - there must be a path there. But, if there isn't, he has the other way. Ro sighs quietly and finishes with his hair. He shouldn't linger, even if Caleb encouraged him to have a soak. He wants Caleb to have time for a leisurely bath, too.
"There is more in the Empire worth seeing, but I am afraid it would take you far out of your way." Caleb's harness slides from his arms, and he sets both books down with care. "Zadash is fairly close, but it is even further inland. And Rexxentrum further still." His gaze is drawn to the second, smaller book he carries. It sits there quietly on top of his spellbook, unremarkable. "But the Zemni Fields are very beautiful."
Hunching his shoulders forward, Caleb gives in to the compulsion to scratch at his arms through the bandages. At least he can't hurt himself that way. But gods, they ache tonight. It's maddening. He hopes a bath will help to soothe it, somehow.
Trying to avoid thoughts of Ro behind that screen is sending him too far down another inadvisable path. Before he gets too lost in his own thoughts, he forces his hands to his bootlaces instead, untying and loosening them. Maybe he will be able to wash some of his things tonight as well, after he washes himself. His coat and scarf need to stay shabby for a reason, but he can clean a few of his garments that aren't as visible, the layers worn closest to his skin. That would be nice.
There is a lot for him to appreciate tonight, he reminds himself. For his companion's sake, at the very least, he should try to be in better spirits. He doesn't know why it bothers him so much that this brief connection will almost certainly end in Deastock. It shouldn't matter.
He tries to hear what Caleb isn't saying as well as what he is.
"I'm not on a timeline," he admits. "I'll get to Deastok when I get there. I've heard the Empire has a lot to experience. Might be nice with someone who actually knows it rather than bumbling through on my own."
Ro means all of it. He's in no hurry to get to where he's going, knowing the errand that sent him here is not necessarily time sensitive. And he does want the chance to get a better impression of the Empire.
The water sloshes against the sides of the tub as Ro gets up, then out. He wraps himself in one of the towels left there - a human-sized one that covers him almost entirely when he puts it around his shoulders - and peers out from behind the screen. When he's sure Caleb isn't naked, he comes out and passes by the wizard so he can dig into his pack.
It takes a moment, but Ro produces a small stone - about the size of his palm - and offers it to Caleb.
"Drop this in the water, it'll get it back to steaming hot."
"You are welcome with me and Nott for as long as it suits you." He extends the offer casually as he slides his unlaced boots off, then his socks. "I am not planning to go all the way to Rexxentrum myself, but I have traveled a good portion of this country, and I am very familiar with Zemnian culture."
Caleb is still fully clothed when Ro emerges, though he's methodically removed all of his layers and accessories down to his tunic, trousers, and the wraps covering his forearms. From the corner of his eye, he glimpses Ro, covered neck to ankle in a towel, shuffle past him, then--his breath catches--approach. A small hand emerges from the towel holding a stone.
"Ah--danke," he says, looking up reflexively. There is nothing to see this time, thankfully, though he is very aware that there is only that single layer between them. Gentle fingers slip the stone from Ro's palm into his own and close around it. His lips spread in a thin smile, and he stands, turning away before he begins tugging his tunic up over his head.
The least awkward thing he can do, he imagines, is follow Ro's example. He's pale, freckled, and lanky--or just plain scrawny--and he doesn't much care either way if he's looked at, but he leaves the bandages on his arms.
Ro smiles at the gratitude and his hand disappears beneath the towel again, helping to hold it shut as he steps back. He doesn't mean to just watch as Caleb removes his tunic, but he ends up doing just that. He can feel a bit of heat rise in his face. He can't quite put his finger on what about Caleb makes him look again - and again - but there's certainly something.
Chiding himself, Ro forces himself to focus on drying off once Caleb disappears behind the screen. He thinks of the bandages covering the other man's forearms and he itches to ask what they are, what they cover. But somehow it seems they're not something he should just ask.
"Well, hopefully you can keep me from getting arrested again for idol worship," he says dryly. Ro works on drying his hair, carefully squeezing the water out with the towel. And he tries not to think too much about Caleb on the other side of the screen.
Only when Caleb is behind the screen does he slip out of his smalls and unwind the bandages from his arms. He drops the stone into the tub and soon sees steam begin to rise from the surface of the water again, newly heated. Useful.
"That will depend on you," he replies, a hint of quiet amusement in his voice. "But I can probably get you out of jail again, at least."
Getting into the bath at last is blissful. He sinks low into the tub, letting the hot water wash over him, and sighs. The heat is a balm to his tired body, and as soon as he takes up the soap and begins to scour the dirt from his skin, he starts to feel just a little more human. He sinks under the water to wet his hair, and scrubs through it vigorously before he emerges again. Three times he rinses and washes both his hair and beard before he's satisfied, when the strands he can see reflected in the firelight are warm dark copper rather than dull auburn.
He goes over his arms quickly, getting it over with so he doesn't linger on the scars. This lets him take his time with the rest of his body, enjoying how clean skin looks and feels after too long since his last opportunity to bathe like this. Washing up quickly in cold streams and water troughs just isn't the same.
Though he is aware of Ro's presence, of course, it is easier somehow to be on this side of the screen. Strangely, there is less to be embarrassed about. Ro is probably getting dressed, which means he won't have to worry about looking where he shouldn't.
After he's bathed, he still intends to wash some of his clothing--but he has only the one set himself, which means he'll be wearing a towel until it dries. He's sure Ro will understand, and it will be well worth the trouble to have clean underlayers.
"Oh you know me, can't help proselytizing all over the countryside." Ro grins as he says it. He hasn't really spoken of his gods at all outside of Caleb directly asking and teasing Nott a bit about what may or may not be protecting his things.
He leaves his hair loose, wanting to let it dry a bit before he does anything else to it. He pulls on some of the spare clothes he has, then sits down on the floor to work on mending a pair of socks he had tucked away. Maybe focusing on a bit of work will keep him from thinking too much about what Caleb is doing and what he looks like on the other side of the screen. They've been good traveling companions, he doesn't want to make it awkward.
"Next time I'll make sure I keep my necklace hidden away better." At least with that he might be useful in a jailbreak.
Ro is happy to keep up his end of the conversation. Whenever Caleb does reappear, he'll find Ro wearing a shirt that is clearly too big for him, and it's hard to immediately tell if he's wearing anything else.
The conversation continues as Caleb bathes, occasionally lapsing into a more comfortable silence at times while Caleb quietly enjoys the hot water and the process of getting clean. When he's scrubbed himself head to toe, more than once in some spots, he grabs the remaining towel and drags himself out of the bath. He leaves the stone Ro had lent him to keep the water warm while he drops a few things in to soak: his bandages, his socks, his smalls, his trousers, his tunic.
Emerging from behind the screen after he dries himself, towel tied just beneath the sharply protruding bones of his narrow hips, Caleb makes for his coat without lifting his head to see if Ro is looking at him. From an inner pocket he retrieves a clean set of bandages, though there isn't much point now in putting them on tonight. A glance would be enough to show the scars he's been hiding; Nott has already glimpsed them before, too. Traveling together long-term without much privacy to be had, it's impossible to hide them forever.
At last, he allows his gaze to stray up, tucking a strand of damp red hair behind his ear. His halfling companion is darning his socks, a shirt clearly meant for someone more Caleb's size covering him shoulders to knees. The image is endearingly quaint, yet intimate in a way that prickles at him. But that is silly. Ro seems at ease, so Caleb tries to match that energy, even as his stomach swoops with nerves.
"I am washing some of my things," he says, sudden and halting. "I do not have spares, so I--" He gestures to himself, lanky, scarred, too thin, bare except for the towel. "I won't be able to wear more than this for a while. I can sit on the other side of the screen if you prefer."
Ro does take a peek, gaze flicking up as a matter of course to acknowledge Caleb's reappearance. He feels a little flutter of warmth - Caleb is handsome beneath the dirt and fear - and he makes himself look down again to finish darning his socks. The scars on Caleb's arms are strange and he wants to ask about them, but they also seem like the sort of thing that... perhaps needn't be poked at. They've been covered with bandages for as long as he's traveled with Caleb and Nott, and Ro imagines that is for a reason.
He holds the socks a bit closer to his face to inspect them and the shirt collar slides, revealing more of the vivid tattoo on the ball of his shoulder, the rest hidden by the sleeve.
"Oh, that's a good idea," he says as he looks up again - he hadn't thought of that. Ro's attention moves fully to Caleb and a wry smile tugs at his mouth.
"I have six siblings and have spent the better part of my life on ships. A half naked person isn't going to scandalize me, I promise." He says it with warm teasing - he doesn't want to make Caleb feel bad for thinking of his sense of propriety, but he does want to make it clear that it really isn't necessary to worry about him. He considers, then tugs at his shirt and asks:
"Would you like this? I have other things I can put on."
Caleb's gaze flickers to Ro's shoulder as the movement of his shirt reveals the edge of his tattoo again, but comes back to his face again just as quickly. If he wants to keep traveling with this man, he really ought to stop ogling him. Luckily, Ro seems not to notice, or at the very least polite enough not to bring it up, instead kindly reassuring him that he isn't offended. It isn't so much that he thought Ro might have delicate sensibilities, but that he just might not want to look at him for longer than necessary. But if he doesn't mind, that makes things easier.
"Ah, nein, I will be okay. You look comfortable as you are." He declines the offer gently, with a tentative twitch of his lips that is almost a smile.
Still moving slowly and carefully, Caleb seats himself on the edge of the bed and untucks the end of the end of the bandages from the roll, laying it against his wrist as he begins the process of rewrapping his forearms, left first. Though his scars are quite prominent, impossible to miss, Ro hasn't mentioned them. Another point in his favor.
"You are welcome to add anything to the tub that you would like washed," he says, not looking up from the task at hand, though he has done it so many times that he probably could without messing it up.
Ro pops up to grab the clothes he'd worn close to his skin for their travels and disappears to dump them in the tub. For good measure, he adds a little more soap. His clothes are in decent shape, but a wash is better than not in all things. When he comes back around the screen, he looks at Caleb again as the other man wraps his arm. Now that Ro is standing, the length of the shirt properly reveals itself, covering him nearly to his knees. The sleeves are certainly too long.
"Would you like some help with that?" he asks, tentative only because it seems clear Caleb has it in hand on his own. Ro knows it can be a little difficult on the non-dominant arm for people who aren't ambidextrous, but he doesn't want to overstep.
By the time Ro finishes putting his own laundry in to soak, Caleb is nearly done with his left arm, tying a careful knot near his elbow to keep the wrapping taut and secure. The right is always a little harder, though by no means unmanageable. Still, when Ro offers his help, he doesn't refuse automatically, as is his first instinct. He considers, quickly weighing pros and cons, then nods.
"Ja, if you do not mind."
While the scars themselves are odd enough, going out of his way to hide them from a companion this way would only draw more attention, conversely. He sits further back on the bed, and offers his right arm when Ro approaches, along with the other length of bandage. "They are not recent, but they still...itch, sometimes," he explains softly. "Wrapping them keeps me from scratching my arms raw."
It isn't a lie. There is just a lot more he isn't sharing.
Ro smiles when Caleb gives his permission and he climbs onto the bed to sit next to Caleb before he accepts the bandaging.
"I understand," he says. He also imagines it keeps Caleb from having to look at them, and it keeps him from having to answer questions about them. If either of those is true, Ro isn't about to press for information. Even if he wants to ask. "Tell me if I wrap too tight."
The scars are strange, but Ro makes it a point not to stare or try to study them beyond what it takes to concentrate on wrapping the bandages. He makes sure that the wraps are snug-but-comfortable, tight enough that they won't move and aggravate any itching, but loose enough that they won't cut off circulation. Ro's hands are deft and careful, and it doesn't take him very long before he's tying a knot at Caleb's elbow to keep the bandages secure.
He looks up and gives Caleb a warm smile. His dark hair still loose and slightly damp where it hangs over his shoulder.
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He keeps it light for the most part - maybe not everyone will know all of the songs, but there's enough that are familiar that some can sing along or tap their feet to familiar beats. After a few songs, someone from the village joins him with a hand drum and the pair of them make a good go of it.
Ro is a cleric, but he sings well and he can command a crowd on a good day. His smile is easy and bright. Once or twice, he seems to pick someone to sing to - including one of the serving maids as she delivers food to Caleb and Nott.
"From Westrunn way to the Open Quay, from Emon to Ank'harel, no maid I've seen like the fair cailín that I met in the Marrow Vale." Ro winks at her and is gratified with a roll of her eyes and a smile as she passes by again. He grins and turns his attention elsewhere to get more of the crowd going.
Whatever evenings are like in the village, tonight at least the tavern is lively. Ro looks up when Caleb appears with a stein and he flashes a grateful smile when he realizes it's for him. He stops playing so that he can take it and Caleb barely has time to pull his hand away before Ro takes a drink. It's cool enough to be perfect and it soothes the dry feeling in his throat.
"Thank you," he says, heartfelt. "Haven't had to sing over a crowd in a little while." Ro sets the stein close, but not where it might get knocked over. He looks up at Caleb again. "Think I'll wrap this up in a few more. I'm getting hungry."
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"You have earned it," he says warmly, "singing for our supper. Come and join us soon. I will tell Miranda you are ready to eat." He nods toward the barmaid who's been serving them tonight, the same one Ro singled out during his last song. Caleb makes it a habit to learn names. It's often useful, and with his memory, a trifle.
He thinks to comment further--on Ro's singing, on how much he'd enjoyed the last song especially--but realizes he's taking up time where he could be playing, finishing his set so he can get to his dinner. His flush deepens, and he takes a step back. "The last one was, ah--I liked it a lot," he says quickly, aware of his awkwardness, but unable to help it. Rather than make it worse, he retreats.
At their table, Nott gives him a sympathetic pat on the knee as she finishes her whiskey.
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Before the end of the song, Ro's standing on the chair he's been sitting in, just so he can be seen by more of the tavern.
The next few songs keep the energy up and the drummer joins in singing those. If he closes his eyes, Ro thinks he could be home. If he closes his eyes, it's enough to ache for it. So he opens them again to appreciate the people here and now. He closes the set with something that'll wind down the energy a bit, something that saves him a bit of singing. When he finishes, he stands on his chair again to take a bow and thank the tavern for a good time. The drummer keeps on, but Ro hops down and collects his alms bowl: there's several coppers and a few silvers, so he'll take it. He splits it, leaving half for the drummer before he goes to join Caleb and Nott.
Aware the table isn't quite made for small folks, even though he's sure he saw some halflings in the crowd, Ro kneels on the bench rather than fully sitting. His voice is just a bit scratchy when he thanks Miranda for delivering his food. He looks a bit shyly at Caleb and Nott.
"The pair of you don't have to wait for me, if you don't want. I'm sure the room's ready."
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When Ro finishes up and joins them, quickly receiving a hot plate for his troubles, Caleb smiles tentatively at him across the table. Nott, who is kneeling so she can peer over the surface of the table, shrugs. "Eh, I'm good," she says mildly. "I'm still drinking."
"We do not mind keeping you company," Caleb adds, the husk of his accent more pronounced as he speaks just loudly enough to be heard. "You are the reason we were able to eat tonight at all."
"Yeah, those were fun tunes," Nott pipes up again. Well into her second glass, she is noticeably less high-strung than usual, her normally twitchy body language relaxed. Good for her. Ever since Caleb's known her, she's needed booze to be anything less than a tiny green ball of anxiety. In many ways, he can relate.
Caleb's beer has gone warm, but there is less than half left anyway. He takes a measured sip. He doesn't need an excuse to linger, but having one gives him some plausible deniability. It isn't just that he wants to remain with his new friend. Maybe he, like Nott, is still drinking. "It is also your room. Enjoy your meal. We will go up when you are ready."
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That's the most fight he puts up, though. He's glad for the company and he focuses on filling his belly before he gets distracted. He puts away a good bit of food for such a little guy, but then he just burned a considerable bit of energy. He doesn't rush, though, allowing himself to enjoy the feel of the tavern now that it's buzzing with the drummer still playing in the background. Ro takes a moment to look around, and if he lets his focus go hazy, he really could be home.
When he does finish, he sits back a bit, resting on his heels as he nurses his drink until that, too, is gone. He feels warm and comfortable for the first time in days, and he knows there are baths in the future. With an empty plate and mug, he looks at his companions.
"Shall we?" he asks as he slides off the bench. Nott waves them off, saying she has more drinking to do. Ro's glad when Caleb gets up, though.
"Do you want the bath first?" he offers on their way up the stairs.
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He feels Nott's absence immediately. With her around, there is a bit of a social buffer. Alone with Ro, his awkward, nervous energy can't slip under the radar as easily. He scrutinizes his own behavior, which in turn makes him more self-conscious. It's been a long time since he's concerned himself with what another person thinks of him. Normally he keeps interaction to a minimum and tries to be forgettable. With Nott, they were both obvious outcasts. There was never any reason to pretend at normalcy with her.
"Nein. You should go first," he insists, because of course Ro is polite enough to offer, but he must refuse. He is frankly pretty filthy, and Ro deserves clean water. Caleb will be glad for the chance to wash up at all. "I would like to set up my Alarm, and that takes a few minutes."
The room is nice, by Caleb's estimation. A little better than a typical roadside inn, even. Nothing fancy, of course, but it is a solid structure with four walls and a roof, it is clean, and the fire already burning in a modest hearth counteracts any draft there might be from the small window. The space is small and the furniture sparse, but sturdy. A bed large enough for an adult human (not a problem; Ro and Nott can share, and he will be fine on the floor), a woven rug, a little table with a single chair, and a truly beautiful sight: a good-sized metal tub filled with steaming water. There is even a simple privacy screen set up beside it.
Caleb closes the door behind them and allows himself a single soft sigh. A hardy meal, a beer, a private room, and a bath. It feels like luxury.
"This is very good," he says, half to himself, shrugging off his coat. The fire has already heated the room to a comfortable temperature, so he won't have to wear it tonight. Reaching into his component pouch, his fingers automatically find the spool of endless silver thread.
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Ro removes a few things from his pack before stowing it beneath the bed. And maybe his gaze lingers a little longer than it needs to when he's reminded that Caleb keeps his component pouch on his thigh. Oh, he really shouldn't think of that.
While Caleb works on setting his alarm, Ro strips off his layers. He's careful to drape his clothes over the corner of the bed for now, not really wanting to leave them on the floor.
He's quite a sturdy little fellow with strong legs and arms, his body built by years on ships. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about him is the tattoo that climbs his left arm from wrist to shoulder: waves roiling across his skin, with a white moon at the apex. Ro leaves his smalls on for now, thinking he probably shouldn't just get naked. He can do that on the other side of the screen. He pulls his hair loose as he goes, happy to see the soap waiting there.
Ro reminds himself that he promised Caleb he'd be quick.
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For Caleb, noticing that someone is good-looking with all their clothes on is a bit like a tap on the shoulder. Hey, look at that. Distracting sometimes, but generally something he can ignore if he tries. As Ro strips down in the periphery of his vision, the awareness of his own attraction is more like a slap in the face. Much harder to brush off, and the ache lasts longer than the initial sharp sting of impact.
Proportionally, Ro is small, of course. But his build is stout and strong, and in some places, invitingly soft. Caleb is too late to banish the thought before it occurs that his own hands would likely easily encompass many appealing parts of his halfling companion's body, should his touch be welcome. The tattoo, somehow, is the last thing he notices. But that is what gives him away, because he ends up lingering too long on taking in the artwork, which is really quite remarkable. Ro glances up, their eyes meet, and Caleb somehow freezes and spontaneously immolates at the same time.
"Sorry, I did not mean to--um, to--" He quickly stammers out a completely inadequate apology in a guilty rush, berating himself inwardly for his disgraceful behavior. Ro is only the second person in years he's spent more than a few hours with, and here he is repaying him for his kindness by furtively eyeing him up when the man is just trying to take a bath. His face is already blazing, and he swallows thickly, his mouth suddenly dry and voice coarse as sandpaper. "I did not know. About this." He touches his own left arm to indicate Ro's tattoo, and then quickly looks away. Which he really should have done immediately, but his muscles only now remember how to move.
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"I didn't have a lot of reason to strip down to bare arms," he says with a smile. "Or even roll up my sleeves. Suppose I should show it off more, it took forever to finish."
It's been cold and none of them have been inclined to undress too far on the road. Ro peers over at Caleb again before he makes himself step out of view so he can push off his smalls. The tub is human-sized, but Ro manages to get in without much issue. The hot water makes him groan and he submerges himself entirely just a breath later. He scrubs his fingers along his scalp before resurfacing, pushing his hair back as he goes.
"Gods, that set was worth this," he sighs. He reminds himself he promised Caleb he wouldn't take forever. He tries not to let his mind wander too far, even if he keeps picturing how Caleb was blushing as he looked away to finish his ritual. Ro can admit to himself he's been flirting a bit, bit he doesn't expect much to come from it.
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"It must have been quite an ordeal," he manages to say, sounding stilted to his own ear, but at least managing to carry on a facsimile of a normal conversation. Hearing the quiet patter of bare feet against the floorboards means he can assume Ro has probably gone behind the screen. "But the result is impressive."
Though the thought of tattooing makes his skin crawl, arms itching worse than usual beneath their wraps (bad associations with sharp objects and permanent body alterations), he can appreciate the artistry to a degree, at least. Ro wears his well.
With focus on his ritual casting completely broken by that embarrassing little exchange, he's forced to start the spell over, which is really the least of what he deserves. It's actually sort of mortifying, having to rewind the wire to begin again knowing that Ro will notice and be well aware it is because he lost concentration. But he can only resolve not to repeat his mistake.
Ro groans as he sinks into the tub, and Caleb's jaw clenches. Stay on task, Widogast.
"Soak a little, if you like," he encourages fretfully. Putting the end of the silver wire to the wall and getting started on Alarm again, he acknowledges that he'll have to redo the side of the room he initially began with, but there's time. "I am in no rush. The bath is not going anywhere."
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Ro absently runs his hand over the tattoo as he cleans up. "I think this is the farthest I've ever been from an ocean," he admits.
It takes him a moment to realize Caleb has started his ritual casting over and Ro feels his face get a little warm - he really shouldn't be chattering away while he's trying to cast, he knows how annoying it can be to have to start over.
"Sorry you had to start over," he says, sounding almost shy. He wasn't trying to distract Caleb on purpose. Ro focuses on cleaning himself up, mindful of where Caleb is in the room as he works through setting the alarm again. Despite his determination to not be distracting, Ro barely thinks about it as he sings quietly to himself.
"Between the winds, between the waves. Between the sands, between the shores. From the shell comes the song of the sea, neither quiet nor calm. Searching for home again, my love."
That he's sung half the evening away doesn't seem to dampen the urge.
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It's only a minute, but it feels like longer. He feels the spell take effect, the awareness of it in the back of his mind. He, Nott, and Ro will be allowed in and out. If anyone else crosses the threshold in either direction, he'll know.
Ro is singing again, and it seems a shame to interrupt him. Listening, Caleb sits down in the single chair, back to the screen and the bath behind it, and begins undoing the straps keeping his component pouch secured around his thigh.
"It is not your fault," he says softly, finally, when Ro's song fades. (He's never been so far from an ocean. Yes, that's clear. He can hear it.) "That I had to start over. I should have been paying more attention to what I was doing." His component pouch is laid carefully on top of the small table, and his hands go to the buckles of his book holster next. "You are sure that you want to continue north? It will take a long time to get back to the ocean."
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"I need to get to Deastock," he says after a moment. "After that, I can turn back to the sea. Either west over the Cyrios range or I'll go back south to the Wyun Gates."
The latter is the longer way, but possibly the safer. Ro's studied maps every chance he gets and he knows that over the mountains from Deastock is Othe - there must be a path there. But, if there isn't, he has the other way. Ro sighs quietly and finishes with his hair. He shouldn't linger, even if Caleb encouraged him to have a soak. He wants Caleb to have time for a leisurely bath, too.
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Hunching his shoulders forward, Caleb gives in to the compulsion to scratch at his arms through the bandages. At least he can't hurt himself that way. But gods, they ache tonight. It's maddening. He hopes a bath will help to soothe it, somehow.
Trying to avoid thoughts of Ro behind that screen is sending him too far down another inadvisable path. Before he gets too lost in his own thoughts, he forces his hands to his bootlaces instead, untying and loosening them. Maybe he will be able to wash some of his things tonight as well, after he washes himself. His coat and scarf need to stay shabby for a reason, but he can clean a few of his garments that aren't as visible, the layers worn closest to his skin. That would be nice.
There is a lot for him to appreciate tonight, he reminds himself. For his companion's sake, at the very least, he should try to be in better spirits. He doesn't know why it bothers him so much that this brief connection will almost certainly end in Deastock. It shouldn't matter.
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"I'm not on a timeline," he admits. "I'll get to Deastok when I get there. I've heard the Empire has a lot to experience. Might be nice with someone who actually knows it rather than bumbling through on my own."
Ro means all of it. He's in no hurry to get to where he's going, knowing the errand that sent him here is not necessarily time sensitive. And he does want the chance to get a better impression of the Empire.
The water sloshes against the sides of the tub as Ro gets up, then out. He wraps himself in one of the towels left there - a human-sized one that covers him almost entirely when he puts it around his shoulders - and peers out from behind the screen. When he's sure Caleb isn't naked, he comes out and passes by the wizard so he can dig into his pack.
It takes a moment, but Ro produces a small stone - about the size of his palm - and offers it to Caleb.
"Drop this in the water, it'll get it back to steaming hot."
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Caleb is still fully clothed when Ro emerges, though he's methodically removed all of his layers and accessories down to his tunic, trousers, and the wraps covering his forearms. From the corner of his eye, he glimpses Ro, covered neck to ankle in a towel, shuffle past him, then--his breath catches--approach. A small hand emerges from the towel holding a stone.
"Ah--danke," he says, looking up reflexively. There is nothing to see this time, thankfully, though he is very aware that there is only that single layer between them. Gentle fingers slip the stone from Ro's palm into his own and close around it. His lips spread in a thin smile, and he stands, turning away before he begins tugging his tunic up over his head.
The least awkward thing he can do, he imagines, is follow Ro's example. He's pale, freckled, and lanky--or just plain scrawny--and he doesn't much care either way if he's looked at, but he leaves the bandages on his arms.
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Chiding himself, Ro forces himself to focus on drying off once Caleb disappears behind the screen. He thinks of the bandages covering the other man's forearms and he itches to ask what they are, what they cover. But somehow it seems they're not something he should just ask.
"Well, hopefully you can keep me from getting arrested again for idol worship," he says dryly. Ro works on drying his hair, carefully squeezing the water out with the towel. And he tries not to think too much about Caleb on the other side of the screen.
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"That will depend on you," he replies, a hint of quiet amusement in his voice. "But I can probably get you out of jail again, at least."
Getting into the bath at last is blissful. He sinks low into the tub, letting the hot water wash over him, and sighs. The heat is a balm to his tired body, and as soon as he takes up the soap and begins to scour the dirt from his skin, he starts to feel just a little more human. He sinks under the water to wet his hair, and scrubs through it vigorously before he emerges again. Three times he rinses and washes both his hair and beard before he's satisfied, when the strands he can see reflected in the firelight are warm dark copper rather than dull auburn.
He goes over his arms quickly, getting it over with so he doesn't linger on the scars. This lets him take his time with the rest of his body, enjoying how clean skin looks and feels after too long since his last opportunity to bathe like this. Washing up quickly in cold streams and water troughs just isn't the same.
Though he is aware of Ro's presence, of course, it is easier somehow to be on this side of the screen. Strangely, there is less to be embarrassed about. Ro is probably getting dressed, which means he won't have to worry about looking where he shouldn't.
After he's bathed, he still intends to wash some of his clothing--but he has only the one set himself, which means he'll be wearing a towel until it dries. He's sure Ro will understand, and it will be well worth the trouble to have clean underlayers.
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He leaves his hair loose, wanting to let it dry a bit before he does anything else to it. He pulls on some of the spare clothes he has, then sits down on the floor to work on mending a pair of socks he had tucked away. Maybe focusing on a bit of work will keep him from thinking too much about what Caleb is doing and what he looks like on the other side of the screen. They've been good traveling companions, he doesn't want to make it awkward.
"Next time I'll make sure I keep my necklace hidden away better." At least with that he might be useful in a jailbreak.
Ro is happy to keep up his end of the conversation. Whenever Caleb does reappear, he'll find Ro wearing a shirt that is clearly too big for him, and it's hard to immediately tell if he's wearing anything else.
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Emerging from behind the screen after he dries himself, towel tied just beneath the sharply protruding bones of his narrow hips, Caleb makes for his coat without lifting his head to see if Ro is looking at him. From an inner pocket he retrieves a clean set of bandages, though there isn't much point now in putting them on tonight. A glance would be enough to show the scars he's been hiding; Nott has already glimpsed them before, too. Traveling together long-term without much privacy to be had, it's impossible to hide them forever.
At last, he allows his gaze to stray up, tucking a strand of damp red hair behind his ear. His halfling companion is darning his socks, a shirt clearly meant for someone more Caleb's size covering him shoulders to knees. The image is endearingly quaint, yet intimate in a way that prickles at him. But that is silly. Ro seems at ease, so Caleb tries to match that energy, even as his stomach swoops with nerves.
"I am washing some of my things," he says, sudden and halting. "I do not have spares, so I--" He gestures to himself, lanky, scarred, too thin, bare except for the towel. "I won't be able to wear more than this for a while. I can sit on the other side of the screen if you prefer."
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He holds the socks a bit closer to his face to inspect them and the shirt collar slides, revealing more of the vivid tattoo on the ball of his shoulder, the rest hidden by the sleeve.
"Oh, that's a good idea," he says as he looks up again - he hadn't thought of that. Ro's attention moves fully to Caleb and a wry smile tugs at his mouth.
"I have six siblings and have spent the better part of my life on ships. A half naked person isn't going to scandalize me, I promise." He says it with warm teasing - he doesn't want to make Caleb feel bad for thinking of his sense of propriety, but he does want to make it clear that it really isn't necessary to worry about him. He considers, then tugs at his shirt and asks:
"Would you like this? I have other things I can put on."
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"Ah, nein, I will be okay. You look comfortable as you are." He declines the offer gently, with a tentative twitch of his lips that is almost a smile.
Still moving slowly and carefully, Caleb seats himself on the edge of the bed and untucks the end of the end of the bandages from the roll, laying it against his wrist as he begins the process of rewrapping his forearms, left first. Though his scars are quite prominent, impossible to miss, Ro hasn't mentioned them. Another point in his favor.
"You are welcome to add anything to the tub that you would like washed," he says, not looking up from the task at hand, though he has done it so many times that he probably could without messing it up.
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Ro pops up to grab the clothes he'd worn close to his skin for their travels and disappears to dump them in the tub. For good measure, he adds a little more soap. His clothes are in decent shape, but a wash is better than not in all things. When he comes back around the screen, he looks at Caleb again as the other man wraps his arm. Now that Ro is standing, the length of the shirt properly reveals itself, covering him nearly to his knees. The sleeves are certainly too long.
"Would you like some help with that?" he asks, tentative only because it seems clear Caleb has it in hand on his own. Ro knows it can be a little difficult on the non-dominant arm for people who aren't ambidextrous, but he doesn't want to overstep.
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"Ja, if you do not mind."
While the scars themselves are odd enough, going out of his way to hide them from a companion this way would only draw more attention, conversely. He sits further back on the bed, and offers his right arm when Ro approaches, along with the other length of bandage. "They are not recent, but they still...itch, sometimes," he explains softly. "Wrapping them keeps me from scratching my arms raw."
It isn't a lie. There is just a lot more he isn't sharing.
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"I understand," he says. He also imagines it keeps Caleb from having to look at them, and it keeps him from having to answer questions about them. If either of those is true, Ro isn't about to press for information. Even if he wants to ask. "Tell me if I wrap too tight."
The scars are strange, but Ro makes it a point not to stare or try to study them beyond what it takes to concentrate on wrapping the bandages. He makes sure that the wraps are snug-but-comfortable, tight enough that they won't move and aggravate any itching, but loose enough that they won't cut off circulation. Ro's hands are deft and careful, and it doesn't take him very long before he's tying a knot at Caleb's elbow to keep the bandages secure.
He looks up and gives Caleb a warm smile. His dark hair still loose and slightly damp where it hangs over his shoulder.
"There, all set."
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