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Ambrose sighs, settling in beside Hassian at the dock. He rests his basket beside him. “Oh, dear… you’re upset with me.”
Hassian doesn’t answer.
“I do wish you would speak to me about it. I don’t mean to distress you, but I know that I do. It would be so very helpful if you might tell me what it is, that I might avoid it next time we speak.” He lifts several items from the basket, setting out a jar of pickled carrots and holding a sandwich on his lap. He tosses chopped chaapa meat to Tau, who bounds about to catch each piece--he has no regard for his owner’s distaste when it comes to free food. Ambrose takes a sullen bite of his sandwich.
“...It would help if you didn’t insist on spending every waking second glued to my side.”
Ambrose looks up, startled that Hassian replied at all. He swallows his food as quickly as he can. “Do you wish I wouldn’t speak to you.. At all?”
Hassian shrugs noncommittally. “I like my peace and quiet. You disturb it constantly.”
Nodding as though he understands, despite the confused furrow in his brow, Ambrose looks back down at his sandwich. “Would it be better if I were quiet?”
“I doubt it. You walk heavily through the woods, scaring away every sernuk I can spot. It’s frustrating.”
“If I walked quieter?” He tosses another slice of meat to Tau.
“I can feel you looking at me. It’s like you never stop staring.”
He nods again. Though he tries to understand, his face falls with every word. "I'm sorry. I just find you so beautiful."
Hassian falls silent again. Ambrose sits quietly, waiting for a response of any kind, his sandwich forgotten on his lap. He gazes out at the pond. The silence draws on so long that Ambrose gives up waiting.
"I am sorry. I hope that didn't upset you, too."
"…I don't care enough about it to be upset."
"I'm still sorry."
Tau jumps away after a butterfly. Ambrose flicks a crumb into the water and watches a fish dart up to eat it.
Finally, Hassian sighs. "I've been harsh with you. I don't understand why you do the things you do, and it's frustrating for me. Most people would have left the third time I told them to."
"You never told me to leave."
"I suggested you find other uses for your time."
Ambrose flicks another crumb into the water. "I don't have much time. I spend most of it running about at the whim of others, I only get an hour or so to see you."
"Stop doing that. Bread isn't nutritional for the fish."
"Sorry." He drops the sandwich back into the basket.
Hassian looks him over, examining the way he's slouched. He's less proper when he's run out of steam. "You don't need to visit me for an hour. You could be hunting."
"I hunt."
"Not enough."
Ambrose looks up at him incredulously. "I've hunted to fatigue half of this past week. Between every pointless errand, I make time to target chaapas."
Hassian doesn't acknowledge that he's seen it. He has watched Ambrose hunt on the plains until his arms give out, no longer able to draw the bow. He instead watches Tau catch a leafhopper in his open mouth. "You have an extra hour each day."
"So you don't want me to visit. Not once, not at all."
"I didn't say that."
"What a surprise. You don't say much of anything, no matter how I ask." He sullenly picks at his shoestraps. "…I'm sorry. That was unkind."
In spite of himself, Hassian huffs a very brief laugh from his nose. He quickly schools his expression back to indifference a moment before Ambrose's head snaps up to catch it. "You could say worse."
Finally, as if something has shifted back to normal, Ambrose's lips twitch into a grin. He shrugs. "I don't enjoy being unkind. I would much rather speak kindly to the people I like."
Hassian's gaze bores into his skull. "You like me?"
Ambrose laughs. That bright sound, like jingling bells, drifts across the wind as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just looked up at Hassian like a kicked plumehound. It could almost be called reassuring. "Of course I like you. I don't talk to people I don't like."
"So you talk to me too much."
"Precisely." He beams. "Is that impossible to believe?"
Tilting his chin, Hassian resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Practically."
"You think poorly of yourself. Or you'd call me a liar, on this lovely afternoon, when I've brought you half a pan of honey-baked muujin." Ambrose affects a haughty air, almost like aristocracy speaking down on the masses. It sends a shard of annoyance lancing under Hassian's skin.
"You didn't bring me anything."
Huffing as if taking great offense, Ambrose reaches back into his basket and digs about. "You didn't ask. Or wait for me to offer it." Grinning, losing all pretentious bluster, he produces a wrapped plate of meat. It's still warm. "You'll have to tell me if it's any good. I tried a bite, but it caused such a peculiar sensation in my throat. Perhaps I'm a bit allergic."
"To muujin? I haven't heard of an allergy to their meat."
"I've had plenty of honey and spice sprouts, I think I would know if I were allergic to them."
Hassian prods the meat for a few moments before lifting a slice to his lips. It's tender, the perfect blend of sweet and spicy, and so juicy it practically bursts in his mouth. He chews thoughtfully. "…It's half decent."
Beaming, Ambrose easily recognizes the reluctant praise. He leans back on his hands and looks up at Hassian with a wide smile. "What can I improve upon? I wasn't sure if I overcooked it."
"It's not overcooked." He takes another bite. His stomach growls, reminding him that he hadn't eaten last night—he was too busy processing the day's catch to cook himself dinner. He ignores it. "You could add wild garlic."
"Ooh, I certainly could! That would be delightful."
Hassian continues eating in silence, watching as Ambrose prattles on about his day. Loathe as he is to admit it, sometimes it's nice. Having someone who thinks of him helps him on occassion. He takes another bite of food too enjoyable to come from such an annoyance, tunes his thoughts to the scenery instead of whatever the carpenter thinks of other villagers, and wonders quite unusually if perhaps, just this once, a change could be something to live with.