Moonlight spilled through the canopy like watered-down silver, turning the forest clearing into something almost peaceful. Almost.
Connor lay sprawled on his back, one arm flung over his face, the other resting on the bottle tucked loosely against his ribs. His chest rose and fell in a slow, uneven rhythm. Grass bent beneath his weight, damp and cool, smelling faintly of earth and pine.
A twig snapped.
Connor's brow twitched. His eyes cracked open, unfocused, pupils adjusting to the glow above. He groaned quietly, rolling onto his side.
"Great," he muttered. "Body wants to live. Tragic."
He pushed himself upright, swaying slightly as he stood. The forest greeted him with the chorus of insects and the distant hoot of something that sounded judgmental. Connor stretched, winced as old scars pulled tight, then shuffled toward the trees, rubbing his eyes.
He didn't get far before he nearly collided with someone.
Connor stumbled back half a step, blinking hard. A figure stood in front of him, solid and unamused, eyes sharp even in the dark.
"Oh—sorry," Connor said automatically, lifting a hand.
"Watch it," the other guy replied, voice flat and gruff.
They stared at each other for a beat too long. Moonlight caught the edge of Tomora's face, his expression unreadable, posture relaxed in that irritating way that suggested confidence without effort.
Connor snorted softly and stepped aside. They passed shoulder to shoulder, neither yielding more space than absolutely necessary.
Connor finished his business quickly, humming under his breath again as he turned back toward the clearing. His steps slowed.
Then stopped.
Tomora was standing exactly where Connor had been sleeping.
Connor stared.
Once. Twice.
"…Hey!" he snapped. "Buddy! That was my spot!"
Tomora didn't even turn his head.
"I pee where I want."
Connor's eye twitched.
His hand curled into a fist on instinct, the ground beneath his boots responding with a faint, uneasy tremor. Dirt shifted. Roots creaked.
Before he could say something regrettable, a softer voice cut in.
"Sorry about him."
Connor looked up.
Tala stood a few steps away, moonlight catching in her hair, expression calm but apologetic. She gave a small bow of her head, eyes warm in a way that made Connor's irritation deflate like a punctured lung.
"He doesn't mean it," she added.
Connor blinked, then straightened, suddenly aware of how disheveled he looked.
"Well," he said, lips curling into a grin, "when an apology comes from a pretty lady, I guess I can let it slide."
Behind him, Tomora smirked.
"Oh?" Tomora said, voice dripping with amusement. "Pretty lady, huh? You pervert."
Connor froze.
Heat rushed to his face so fast it almost hurt. "N-no! That's not—! I wasn't— I just meant—" He waved his hands uselessly. "Look, I was just saying… you're beautiful. That's all."
Tomora leaned closer, grin widening like he'd just found a new toy.
"Uh-huh. Sure you were," he murmured. "Maybe I should start calling you 'gentle man.' Bet Tala would love that."
Connor swallowed, suddenly very aware of the ground beneath him and how easily it could betray him if his emotions slipped.
"No, really," he said quickly, scratching the back of his head. "I wasn't trying to be creepy or anything. Just being honest."
Tala sighed.
Then, without warning, she grabbed Tomora by the ear.
Hard.
"Ow—!" Tomora yelped as she twisted and pulled him back. "Oi! Quit pulling! Let go! You're gonna make me deaf!"
"Again," Tala said calmly, dragging him away despite his protests, "I'm sorry about him. Really, I am."
Tomora stumbled, feet scraping against the grass as he was hauled backward. "You're abusing your authority!" he shouted. "This is elder abuse!"
"You're younger than me," Tala replied flatly.
"That makes it worse!"
As they disappeared into the shadows, Tomora twisted just enough to call back over his shoulder.
"You're such an amateur, you know that? I bet you get your ass kicked all the time!"
Connor watched them go, lips twitching.
"Yeah," he said quietly, shaking his head. "Maybe."
He glanced down at the disturbed patch of grass where he'd been sleeping. Then back at the direction they'd vanished.
"But I've got good taste in trouble."
The forest swallowed their voices, leaving only the rustle of leaves and the steady rhythm of the night.
Connor exhaled and sat down on a nearby log, stretching his legs out in front of him. He tipped his bottle back, frowned when nothing came out, then tossed it aside.
Figures.
He leaned back, resting his hands behind his head, staring up at the moon. Somewhere nearby, Tomora was probably still complaining. Tala was probably ignoring him. And Connor—Connor found himself smiling despite himself.
He hadn't planned on sticking around with anyone. Hadn't planned on anything at all, really.
But the night felt… lighter.
Which usually meant things were about to go terribly wrong.
And for once?
Connor didn't mind.