'I thought you might be better suited to reaching'? Did she always talk like a Tranquil now, or was that just her dislike of him bubbling through? He wandered across the cavern after Bethen with amusement flickering in his eyes. As much as it really didn't matter to Constans what she thought of him, her awkward reluctance was so pronounced it tempted him too badly not to mess with her a tiny bit. If little miss priss was going to be an ice princess, he would be a perfect gentleman. He'd come out of here smelling like roses.
"No problem," he grinned, brushing politely past her to the shelf. Tall as he was Constans still had to tiptoe slightly and stretch for it, his fingers delicately scooting the jar over the lip of the top shelf. As he did so, his back turned to his companion, he mostly wondered if Bethen was looking at his butt. He was a sixteen year old boy, he spent a lot of time doing things like that.
"Did you want anything else?" he asked genially, turning to hand Beth the requested jar. "Because I just found about fifty unlabelled cannisters full of souring potions that I'm really not looking forward to sorting, so if you have anything more you could use help with, you won't hear me arguing." He laughed, a little awkwardly, at his own joke, certain that the mannerism would be endearing.