"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.
Ro would be correct in those assumptions as well, but Caleb continues to appreciate that he avoids questions or comments. It even seems like he avoids staring. He just wraps his arm, his small hands quick and sure. Caleb wonders if his skill with healing goes beyond magic, if he's had the training or the reason to wrap injuries before. From what he understands, that isn't always the case with clerics, but sometimes.
He barely feels the brush of Ro's fingers as he ties off the bandage. Ducking his head, Caleb glances up and meets the other man's eyes. His gaze drops to his smile, then away again.
"Danke," he mutters. He curls his fingers, moves and twists his arm. Nothing comes loose, nothing is too tight. "This is good."
There is something too appealing about this. Ro's nearness, his freshly washed skin, his oversized shirt slipping from his shoulder, his loose, damp hair. His smile, his helpfulness, his lack of judgement. Caleb is nervous, suddenly. He is shy. And he feels very, very pathetic. Is a little kindness and a pretty face all it takes to make him yearn for something he's long decided is beyond his reach?
It is something he doesn't deserve. Kindness, closeness, intimacy. Yet he craves it all the same.
"Any time," he says with an easy tone that might belie the sincerity of it. But his expression remains soft and warm and maybe a little reassuring: Caleb can ask him for this.
The wizard isn't an easy man to read, but Ro thinks he catches a nervous glance or the way his bare shoulders curl in more. Maybe it's because Caleb is without all his layers that he notices at all. Ro wants to say something, but the moment feels fragile and he doesn't want to push something that might be too brittle to survive. Caleb has survived a lot, though. The scars say so.
"I was thinking... the bed's a decent size, and I suspect we're both ready to insist the other takes it. Would it be too strange if we curled up like we did on the road...?"
Caleb and Nott had been cuddled up together and Ro stayed close by, shoulder against Caleb's side at one point like they'd been in the jail. They wouldn't have to be that close in the bed, so Ro offers, even though he feels like he's on thin ice. He gives Caleb a lopsided smile.
"And if you really insist, at least use my bedroll and let me see if I can charm my way into extra blankets." There, he thinks. A way out if Caleb needs one to avoid feeling cornered by the first suggestion.
While Caleb is flexible about the arrangement of who sleeps where, he really had been looking forward to a real bed tonight. Traveling with two smaller companions means that even on a mattress sized for a single human body, like this one, there is still room to sleep two, so long as they are comfortable with close proximity. Though his undeniable attraction to his new halfling friend leaves him somewhat conflicted, nights spent in relative comfort are too few and far between for him to be precious about something so simple and practical as sharing a bed.
So, with perhaps less resistance than Ro might have expected, Caleb shakes his head, agreeing. He doesn't find it strange at all, and he is relieved that Ro doesn't either. If his attention, his scars, or his general awkwardness has made him at all uncomfortable, as Caleb has worried, surely he wouldn't volunteer to sleep beside him.
"No, I think that is sensible. We can lay out the bedroll for Nott to use when she returns." She'll likely be drunk enough to pass out right away anyway, and a soft pile of bedroll and blankets will work just as well for her.
Of course, he should probably wear more than a towel to bed. Which means giving his things a proper scrub now that they've had time to soak, and then setting them out to dry by the fire. Hopefully his smalls, at least, will be wearable by the time they decide to turn in.
Hopefully he will have a better handle on himself by then, too. The nerves that accompany this useless longing make him tense, anxious and drawn in on himself. Not very nice to share a bed with.
A smile lights Ro's face that's pleased and relieved. The whole point of this was to get Caleb a bed after all he and Nott had done for him, so Ro is happy that it's so easily accepted.
"All right, I'll make sure she has a good nest," he says. "I'll do that now so it's done." He slides off the bed to get his bedroll where it's tied tight against his pack. Ro considers for a moment, then hops into a spare set of trousers he has for himself - better to not handle the next part of his plan without something covering his ass, even if the shirt is doing so quite adequately.
First, he unrolls the pad and blanket and pillow that are rolled together. He searches the room and finds a spare quilt to add to the pile, trying to make it comfortable. It's clear that it's meant for a human-sized person and Ro's able to fold everything to make it more padded.
"I'll be right back, I'm going to see if I can finagle another blanket." He's done a good turn tonight, right? A spare shouldn't be too much to ask. He goes down to the tavern and manages to get the innkeeper's attention while she's not too busy.
"Excuse me, ma'am? Would it be possible for us to have an extra blanket? It's the three of us," he explains with a hopeful smile. "And uhm, if I might ask another favor--"
That second one takes a bit of tale-telling, but it seems to work. Within ten minutes, Ro comes back into the room with a bundle in his arm.
"Extra blankets and--" Ro dumps the blankets on the floor for now and holds out a pair of long, soft pants that someone might use as a very bottom layer or to sleep in. "I might've said yours had a run in with a nasty dog on the way here."
It's not as though anyone would've been looking at Caleb very hard, especially with his coat being relatively long. And all of a sudden Ro's sense of triumph is replaced by something else - the sharp worry that he's overstepped. He tries to keep the heat from his face as he adds, "I didn't want you to have to--well--I wasn't sure how quickly things would dry."
And he doesn't want Caleb to have to sleep in something damp, or worse, feel uncomfortable in less than that.
By the time Ro returns, Caleb is in the process of wringing out each of the garments he'd washed and draping them over the chair, which he's pulled closer to the fire. Looking to the door as it opens, he blinks, taken aback by Ro triumphantly offering him a pair of pants, a little threadbare, but good as new to Caleb.
"Oh," he says, too surprised at first for any other response. Yet automatically, he steps forward to accept this unexpected...gift? His fingers curl into the gray fabric, worn soft. They look roomy for him--he may have to roll them at the waist once or twice--but they'll do nicely.
Ro thought of him. He was proud of it, of finding him something he clearly needs--but now it's plain, as he explains, that he's second-guessing himself. Caleb has to fight his own instinct toward looking too deeply into this gesture, but he can recognize it for the kindness it is. He isn't used to it, and he doesn't fully understand it, but it's in keeping with Ro's character--as much as he has come to learn over several days, at least.
"That is very thoughtful," he says at last, looking up from his hands--not so far--to meet the concern in Ro's face. "You are right. I do not think I would have had anything to wear."
He offers a wry little quirk of his lips, a gentle warmth in his eyes. "This will be better for both of us. Thank you."
Ducking behind the screen to pull them on will hopefully keep Ro from overthinking this any further. The towel is folded and draped over the side of the tub, and Caleb reemerges a moment later, rolling the waist over a second time. Even so, they still hang low on his hips. But they are comfortable, and a great improvement on wearing nothing at all.
Relief eases the tension in his face and Ro smiles again. "The woman who runs the tavern said you could keep them. They're her son's, something something he's off in Zadash as an apprentice and they don't fit him anymore anyway."
Ro tucks his hair back. Now that it's drying, it's gained some volume though it still falls mostly straight.
"I've slept in wet clothes, I know that misery," he says with a wry smile. "And... you've been kind. I wouldn't be here right now if you and Nott hadn't gotten me out. A bed and something to wear in it felt like a good return on that."
When Caleb disappears behind the screen to get changed, Ro starts adding to the nest for Nott. He glances up when Caleb reappears and he smiles shyly when he sees him in the pants. They're too big, but they look comfortable otherwise.
"Do you think this'll be good for Nott?" he asks as he gets up from the nest of blankets, padding, and a pillow or two. There's still two pillows and a heavy quilt on the bed for him and Caleb.
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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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He barely feels the brush of Ro's fingers as he ties off the bandage. Ducking his head, Caleb glances up and meets the other man's eyes. His gaze drops to his smile, then away again.
"Danke," he mutters. He curls his fingers, moves and twists his arm. Nothing comes loose, nothing is too tight. "This is good."
There is something too appealing about this. Ro's nearness, his freshly washed skin, his oversized shirt slipping from his shoulder, his loose, damp hair. His smile, his helpfulness, his lack of judgement. Caleb is nervous, suddenly. He is shy. And he feels very, very pathetic. Is a little kindness and a pretty face all it takes to make him yearn for something he's long decided is beyond his reach?
It is something he doesn't deserve. Kindness, closeness, intimacy. Yet he craves it all the same.
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The wizard isn't an easy man to read, but Ro thinks he catches a nervous glance or the way his bare shoulders curl in more. Maybe it's because Caleb is without all his layers that he notices at all. Ro wants to say something, but the moment feels fragile and he doesn't want to push something that might be too brittle to survive. Caleb has survived a lot, though. The scars say so.
"I was thinking... the bed's a decent size, and I suspect we're both ready to insist the other takes it. Would it be too strange if we curled up like we did on the road...?"
Caleb and Nott had been cuddled up together and Ro stayed close by, shoulder against Caleb's side at one point like they'd been in the jail. They wouldn't have to be that close in the bed, so Ro offers, even though he feels like he's on thin ice. He gives Caleb a lopsided smile.
"And if you really insist, at least use my bedroll and let me see if I can charm my way into extra blankets." There, he thinks. A way out if Caleb needs one to avoid feeling cornered by the first suggestion.
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So, with perhaps less resistance than Ro might have expected, Caleb shakes his head, agreeing. He doesn't find it strange at all, and he is relieved that Ro doesn't either. If his attention, his scars, or his general awkwardness has made him at all uncomfortable, as Caleb has worried, surely he wouldn't volunteer to sleep beside him.
"No, I think that is sensible. We can lay out the bedroll for Nott to use when she returns." She'll likely be drunk enough to pass out right away anyway, and a soft pile of bedroll and blankets will work just as well for her.
Of course, he should probably wear more than a towel to bed. Which means giving his things a proper scrub now that they've had time to soak, and then setting them out to dry by the fire. Hopefully his smalls, at least, will be wearable by the time they decide to turn in.
Hopefully he will have a better handle on himself by then, too. The nerves that accompany this useless longing make him tense, anxious and drawn in on himself. Not very nice to share a bed with.
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"All right, I'll make sure she has a good nest," he says. "I'll do that now so it's done." He slides off the bed to get his bedroll where it's tied tight against his pack. Ro considers for a moment, then hops into a spare set of trousers he has for himself - better to not handle the next part of his plan without something covering his ass, even if the shirt is doing so quite adequately.
First, he unrolls the pad and blanket and pillow that are rolled together. He searches the room and finds a spare quilt to add to the pile, trying to make it comfortable. It's clear that it's meant for a human-sized person and Ro's able to fold everything to make it more padded.
"I'll be right back, I'm going to see if I can finagle another blanket." He's done a good turn tonight, right? A spare shouldn't be too much to ask. He goes down to the tavern and manages to get the innkeeper's attention while she's not too busy.
"Excuse me, ma'am? Would it be possible for us to have an extra blanket? It's the three of us," he explains with a hopeful smile. "And uhm, if I might ask another favor--"
That second one takes a bit of tale-telling, but it seems to work. Within ten minutes, Ro comes back into the room with a bundle in his arm.
"Extra blankets and--" Ro dumps the blankets on the floor for now and holds out a pair of long, soft pants that someone might use as a very bottom layer or to sleep in. "I might've said yours had a run in with a nasty dog on the way here."
It's not as though anyone would've been looking at Caleb very hard, especially with his coat being relatively long. And all of a sudden Ro's sense of triumph is replaced by something else - the sharp worry that he's overstepped. He tries to keep the heat from his face as he adds, "I didn't want you to have to--well--I wasn't sure how quickly things would dry."
And he doesn't want Caleb to have to sleep in something damp, or worse, feel uncomfortable in less than that.
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"Oh," he says, too surprised at first for any other response. Yet automatically, he steps forward to accept this unexpected...gift? His fingers curl into the gray fabric, worn soft. They look roomy for him--he may have to roll them at the waist once or twice--but they'll do nicely.
Ro thought of him. He was proud of it, of finding him something he clearly needs--but now it's plain, as he explains, that he's second-guessing himself. Caleb has to fight his own instinct toward looking too deeply into this gesture, but he can recognize it for the kindness it is. He isn't used to it, and he doesn't fully understand it, but it's in keeping with Ro's character--as much as he has come to learn over several days, at least.
"That is very thoughtful," he says at last, looking up from his hands--not so far--to meet the concern in Ro's face. "You are right. I do not think I would have had anything to wear."
He offers a wry little quirk of his lips, a gentle warmth in his eyes. "This will be better for both of us. Thank you."
Ducking behind the screen to pull them on will hopefully keep Ro from overthinking this any further. The towel is folded and draped over the side of the tub, and Caleb reemerges a moment later, rolling the waist over a second time. Even so, they still hang low on his hips. But they are comfortable, and a great improvement on wearing nothing at all.
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Ro tucks his hair back. Now that it's drying, it's gained some volume though it still falls mostly straight.
"I've slept in wet clothes, I know that misery," he says with a wry smile. "And... you've been kind. I wouldn't be here right now if you and Nott hadn't gotten me out. A bed and something to wear in it felt like a good return on that."
When Caleb disappears behind the screen to get changed, Ro starts adding to the nest for Nott. He glances up when Caleb reappears and he smiles shyly when he sees him in the pants. They're too big, but they look comfortable otherwise.
"Do you think this'll be good for Nott?" he asks as he gets up from the nest of blankets, padding, and a pillow or two. There's still two pillows and a heavy quilt on the bed for him and Caleb.
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