Re: The lake: close to the water
Chivalry was not his birthright and it hadn't been bred into him past a general regard for other people that he'd mostly lost along the way. He was no white knight, not even a black knight. He was no kind of knight at all. But he was kind enough to still keep his attention turned away while her world re-aligned itself.
Her footsteps were nearly silent on the grass until she shuffled along to wipe away lake water and muck, and hearing that, he returned his gaze to her direction. She climbed up the bank until he had to tip his head back to look up at her from his seat on the ground, expression blank as he sucked another drag of smoke and warmth. It streamed from his nostrils after a moment, a dragon content to sit on the shore.
He was calm under her regard, and it didn't bother him that she wasn't the fantasy sculpture brought to life. He was hardly artwork himself. When she turned out to look at the thread of horizon, he looked in the same direction, continuing to smoke until there was nothing left and he stubbed out the butt on the bottom of his boot, letting it cool enough before he pocketed it, not wanting to leave it to litter the shoreline. He felt as if maybe he should say something, but he'd been the last to speak, and nothing came to mind other than to ask if she was alright again. And he'd already done that more than once.