Who: Ari & Drake What: A picnic (kind of) Where: Drake’s apartment When: Today Rating: PG Status: Complete
The picnic, needless to say, was canceled.
It surprised Ari to realize just how much she’d been looking forward to it -- her, anticipating an afternoon of sitting out in the cold! -- but maybe it was all part and parcel with whatever had caused her to snap at Aspel earlier.
Really, fighters. She’d still been angry when she’d left the apartment above the smithy, and even the chill hadn’t served to fully cool her temper. She was calmer today, but only just. She didn’t have rehearsal to keep her mind occupied -- or anything else. She’d cleared her day for a traipse into the wilderness for the promise of muffins and blankets, hadn’t she?
There she was, getting worked up again.
On the rare occasions she got like this, she just needed to do something. She had to steer clear of Aspel at least until she cooled her head (and perhaps worked out just why she had lost it so thoroughly in the first place) but Drake had been awfully quiet, too. If he was half-dead in bed as well…
Well, she thought as she set out into the city, only one way to find out.
It took her a little while to gather what she needed, but she finally made it to his apartment, loaded down with a giant basket and her mandolin. Hoping for the best, she knocked firmly on the door.
Maybe, he thought as he stared at the front door from the couch, if I pretend it doesn’t exist, whoever is there will go away. He didn’t really want company today - all he wanted to do was lay on the couch and not have to do anything, and chances were whoever was on the other side of his door? Wanted him to do something.
And if that something wasn’t sleeping? He wasn’t interested.
So, he settled more comfortably on the couch, picked up his book, and continued to read. No one was so persistent that they’d keep knocking on a door over and over and over if no one answered, right? Right.
She thought she heard movement, but then… nothing.
She set her lips in a line. Oh no, he didn’t. And if he wasn’t in there, well, she’d simply wait for him to come home, now wouldn’t she? She’d make tea and he’d forgive her for breaking in.
She made quick work of his lock, rising from her knees once it was picked and opening the door to see…
“Well, at least you don’t look to be at death’s door,” she proclaimed. “Locking out a corsair’s daughter; I see how well that worked out for you.” She seemed to have expended the majority of her anger; she felt irritation but also relief that he looked as good as he did. All things appeared to be relative.
“Drake Liu, you promised me a picnic,” she said, picking up the basket and striding into the almost empty room without waiting for him to say something (like, most likely, get out). “I’ve even brought the required components to you -- now are you going back on your word? Because you have not yet proven to me your sandwich-making ability of which, by the way, I am highly skeptical.”
Really, he shouldn’t have been surprised when Ari waltzed into the room. Honestly, he should have expected it. Especially when he realized he hadn’t actually sent her any confirmation that he was alive - not that he had to, or even usually did so why was he even having this thought?
He shook his head. “There’s a thing called knocking,” he informed her. “And going away when no one answers.” The book was lifted to cover his face. “I’ll make you a sandwich when we reschedule the picnic. Right now, I’m reading.”
“Yes, and people who aren’t me occasionally do it,” she said, utterly unfazed by his annoyance. She had enough of her own to match it. She plucked the book from his hands, adding, “History has waited for hundreds of years; it’ll wait an evening.” She gave him a frank appraisal before asking, “How bad are you? Since everyone I know appears to be various degrees of broken.”
“Hey!” He tried to make a grab for it, but as soon as he moved, his shoulder flared up and he hissed in pain, which was an indirect answer to Ari’s question. “I was reading that,” he pouted, rubbing his injury with his good hand.
There really wasn’t much to say about the battle - he’d gone, he’d fought, he’d gotten knocked around. Fortunately, there’d been the mage with the healing…. whatever and so he’d walked away pretty unscathed. And he would have stayed that way if he hadn’t gone back out. That’d been his mistake, and now he was paying for it.
“I’m in one piece. Isn’t that good enough?” he whined.
“Would you like some cheese with that?” she asked innocently, disappearing into the bedroom. She reappeared moment later, hauling the comforter, which she spread out on the floor. “Actually,” she said, “I brought grape juice. As well as the things you need for sandwiches -- sayeth the grocer -- and apples and even muffins, which you will be happy to know I didn’t make myself. The cheese isn’t even yellow.”
She plopped down on the blanket, clearly quite at home as she began to unpack the basket. There were even glasses for the juice. “So,” she said, “since you’re in one piece, why are you all the way over there when I’m over here?”
“You know,” he pointed out as he rolled off the couch and meandered to the impromptu picnic spread in the middle of his mostly empty living room, “the point of the picnic was for all three of us.” Carefully, he sat down and stared at the things that she had brought. “And the grocer forgot the pears.”
Despite the lack of pear, he started going through the motions of making sandwiches. When in Rabanastre and all that. Besides, it didn’t seem like she was going to take no for an answer. Which, really, what had he expected? If she’d left so easily, he’d have wondered if she was sick.
“So, who else is broken?”
“Aspel, to start.” The look on her face was uncharacteristically annoyed; it boded ill for any line of questioning upon this particular topic. “Apparently, Aud was out there. My hare-brained co-star, Miles. Probably a half dozen other people.”
She watched with amusement as he began to assemble the sandwiches. “Assuming there’s ever a picnic for the three of us -- an assumption I am beginning to doubt -- I’ll remind you to buy pears. Beggars can’t be choosers, and all that.”
Now, Drake was often oblivious to things, but there was no missing the clear annoyance on Ari’s face at the mention of Aspel. Okay, then, he thought, slicing the cheese and ripping strips of lettuce for the sandwiches, not going there.
“Are you suggesting I’d forget the best part of a pear and brie sandwich, Arielle Chiaro?” He looked at her, mock aghast. “I’ve never been so insulted in my life. I think that you should leave and I should have a picnic alone with my book.” He winked and handed over a sandwich. “But first, you have to tell me how amazing my sandwich skills are.”
She took the completed sandwich and took a bite, her expression impassive. “Hmm,” she said. “I suppose I will concede that this sandwich is edible.” It was actually pretty good, all things considered, but Drake would definitely think something was wrong with her if she began praising him effusively.
Sandwich in hand she scooted over to lean against his side, gently in case he was more injured than he was letting on. “This,” she said, “was an excellent idea. Do you know what the very best part of an indoor picnic is?”
“You’re not outside in the cold?” he guessed, wrapping an arm around her; fortunately, she’d leaned against his mostly uninjured side. He knew that Ari wasn’t fond of the cold - he couldn’t blame her; she’d grown up in one of the hotter areas of Ordalia, whereas his hometown was more temperate thanks to the ocean.
Still, it would have been nice to sit under a nice tree and watch her shiver and pout. There were many ways to keep warm, after all. Except that they’d have had to go to one of their houses, and it would have been awkward with Aspel around.
Maybe this was better.
Maybe he should go see how Aspel was doing later.
“That,” she agreed, “and, if I decide -- for whatever reason -- to give you a more thorough check-up later -- see if you’re in one piece as claimed, and so on -- neither of us will die of frostbite.” She reached for the juice bottle, poured two glasses. “So, cheers to us, and our avoidance of unfortunate situations.”
Drake shook his head, but took his glass and clinked it against hers. “Cheers, indeed.”