Chapter 454 - 455: What To Do.

Chapter 454: Chapter 455: What To Do.

From how genuinely startled Loac looks, he clearly wasn’t expecting Montrel to come for him like this.

​"Have you not being paying attention at all?" Montrel demands hotly, shaking his head and taking a deep, deep scull of his drink because he absolutely needs it to cool down before his head explodes.

No one is seriously this dense. No one.

​"Gods." In the end, that’s all he can come up with. What else is there to say? Loac’s got nothing to offer either, apparently, because he doesn’t answer him, doesn’t ask him what he means, and doesn’t try to pull any more of that bullshit that it’s not like that.

​He doesn’t say a goddamned word. And it’s probably for the best, because if it was something daft Montrel probably would’ve smacked him upside the head, prince or not.

​Not like that. What a joke.

Montrel’s got a terrible track record with gambling, but even he knows a sure thing when he sees it.

And he knows, sure as he knows the face of the girl he wants to call his wife, that Khobi’s got it bad for this asshole.

As bad as this asshole has it for him, presumably. Muttering mutinous nothings to himself, Montrel downs the rest of his drink, slamming the mug down with a sigh; nice and heavy to vent some of his irritation.

The sound seems to jolt Loac from his stupor; reminds him of his own drink still sat brimming in front of him, and without a word he brings it to his lips, and drinks.

​And then, as the seconds tick by, out of the corner of his eyes Montrel witnesses a change come over him.

It starts in the corners of his eyes; little creases forming as the tension in his shoulders begins to melt, and as he slowly lowers his mug the entire room seems to exhale for him.

And then, when Montrel peers just a little closer, the tightness in his jaw gives way to the soft, barely-there beginnings of a smile. The kind of smile Montrel remembers seeing long ago, when little prince Loac was a nuisance, but a nuisance with a spark.

It makes him look dumb and young, and damn if it doesn’t yank on Montrel’s goddamned heartstrings in a way he’d like to pretend it doesn’t.

​Gods, this guy’s really just a kid, isn’t he?

​Montrel’s not sure exactly what possesses him to reach over and ruffle his hair, but he does.

Just for a moment; just for old times’ sake, and while Loac seems caught off guard by the gesture, he doesn’t smack him away.

​In fact, he actually looks kinda embarrassed.

​(Montrel can relate.)

​"It’s gonna be all right, you hear?" he finds himself saying, because when those sad little kids got that sad little look in their eyes, he’d always told them that; hoping that they’d believe him.

He’d usually believe it, too; just like he believes it now. And then with an uncomfortable cough, he hurriedly retracts his hand. Just on the off chance Loac decides to break it for touching him so casually.

He makes no move to do anything of the sort. In fact, to his surprise, he gestures for another drink. For each of them. "...So don’t think too hard on it, yeah?" he advises, trading out his empty mug for a full one and then begrudgingly shoving a hand in his pocket for some more gold when Loac makes no move to pay. "...That’s really not your style."

​The silence that follows isn’t nearly as bad as the ones that came before it, eventually broken by the disgusted noise Loac makes when he takes a sip of his new drink.

A weird reaction, given how much he loves this gross stuff but Montrel figures out why only a moment later when he takes a swig of his own and is pleasantly surprised to find that the guy’s ordered them both real, actual ale.

​Well what do you know.

​"...S’that all you dragged me down here for?" Loac drawls with a heavy huff, slinging him a wry, somewhat guarded look; like he’s gonna forgive him for meddling just this once but won’t be thrilled if he does it again, "...To call me a moron?"

Ah.

​Hmm, probably not a good move, in hindsight.

​"That was an accident," Montrel admits gruffly. "...Although you are one," he makes sure to clarify, even though insulting the guy isn’t gonna do him any favours.

He hadn’t meant to get quite so loud, but some old habits just never die, do they? "And you’re right. There’s something else I kinda wanted to talk to you about.

Ask you, I guess." He swallows, steeling himself in the face of Loac’s guarded expression; debates knocking back the rest of his drink, and then decides that he’d rather do this as clear headed as possible.

​"I just thought you should know," he prefaces slowly, voice coming out surprisingly even. He’s pretty sure he should be nervous, but it’s reassuring to find that he’s not. "...I’m gonna ask Xena to marry me. And I know it would mean a lot to her if you were...cool with that."

​It’s a good thing that this does not seem to take Loac by surprise. It’s a bad thing how quiet he goes, and for just how long he stays that way.

​"...I thought you already asked her," he replies coolly, and Montrel can’t help but cringe at what was possibly the most embarrassing moment of his life to date.

(Thank the gods for Bongo.)

​"I mean, technically, I guess... " he begrudgingly admits, "But I’m gonna do it properly this time. Right. Like, with a nice ring and shit."

​"Doesn’t have to be nice ," Loac snorts dismissively, rolling his eyes as he raises his drink back to his lips, "...She’ll like whatever you give her coz it’ll be from you. So don’t worry about that."

​"Right." Montrel doesn’t know quite what to make of that. Nor of how Loac tells him with a dead straight face that he should check with her mom; that it’s all right to marry her.

For a second there Montrel’s not entirely sure he’s not messing with him, but he seems oddly serious, so he’s gonna have to ask Bongo or something just how exactly he’s meant to get a dead queen’s permission to marry her daughter.

"Right," he finds himself repeating, more for something to say than because it means anything, "I uh...I’ll do that."