Chapter 464 - 465: Put On A Show.

Chapter 464: Chapter 465: Put On A Show.

"Something smells nice," Mozry declares, and Khojin opens the lid of the basket for her to inspect as he did.

"Khobi and Trent are treating us today," he informs her, and Khobi feels a sudden, terrible pang of alarm as Mozry’s eyes start misting over the moment she sees just what he’s treating them with.

"Ah, shit," he curses, horrified that he’s made some sort of mistake in making these; in bringing them something that reminded them of a home they’d left behind. They’ve always made him feel nostalgic, but maybe that’s not how it is for her, "...Did I...do something wrong?"

"Oh Khobi , don’t be an idiot," she scoffs, and though her voice chokes up a little at the end, she smiles as she reaches it and takes one of the breads to present to her husband, "Look, Khojin. He remembered."

Khobi’s concerns immediately evaporate, and as he deflates he shoots Loac a grateful look.

If I were them I’d want something that tasted like home.

"It was Loac’s idea, actually," he admits, and then frowns when he realises that Loac’s still standing over at the door like an idiot. "I uh, make them quite a lot. The ingredients here are different, so they might not taste quite how you remember, but –"

"I’m sure they’ll be delicious," Khojin assures him, reaching it to grab one for himself and blowing on the surface lightly to help it cool, "You can tell when food’s been made with love." That’s hardly reassuring. He used to say that about his aunt’s food too, and Khobi’s pretty sure that she’s a terrible cook. "Oh, Trent, you’re not staying?" he adds, and Khobi’s head immediately whips around to catch Loac turning towards the door; hand on the handle like he’s about to see himself out.

For some reason the question leaves Loac unusually tongue-tied.

"Huh? Oh, I uh...you guys go ahead..." he mumbles, like it’s caught him off guard to have been asked such a thing, "I should really go –"

"Don’t be ridiculous," Mozry interjects sharply, and Khobi recognises her no-nonsense battlemaster voice as she orders, "Eat with us."

"...You heard her," Khojin shrugs, when Loac shoots him a confused look, "...Obviously we want to get to know the man Khobi’s set to marry."

He means nothing by it, but Khobi’s chest tightens at those words all the same.

Clearly hesitant, Loac swallows; glancing Khobi’s way to make sure it’ll be okay, and when Khobi offers him an it’s up to you shrug, pads over and sinks down into the space next to him. He’s unusually subdued though; even waiting to be offered one of the buns instead of snatching like he normally would, and in possibly the first time ever , doesn’t get sauce all over his hands as they begin to eat.

"...Quit being weird," Khobi eventually mutters, knocking their knees together. He’s already finished three and Loac’s barely gotten through one. "Eat normally."

"I’m not being weird," Loac grumbles, even though he is, and knocks back. "...This is normal."

It had come as somewhat of a surprise, how normal it felt being able to sit with his aunt and uncle again; eating breakfast together like they did it every morning, or pacing out a sequence of steps with Khojin and have his aunt eyeballing his footwork because she knows that’s where he used to get sloppy. It’s not sloppy anymore; Drogger’s made sure of that.

It’s surprising how normal this feels, too; telling them about his day over dinner and them telling him about theirs. It feels like everything he’s been wanting all this time; simple little moments and little routines that the soldiers got to have all their lives without ever even thinking about it. Moments that he didn’t really even realise he’d missed because he’d never gotten to have them in the first place. Not as a grown man, at least, although the more he talks the more he kind of starts to feel like a kid, telling them about a day out at the river with his friends.

Except that now instead of telling them about a cool bug they found, or how he’d gotten into a fight with a bigger boy and won, he tells them about some of the recipes the cooks have been teaching him, and how at training a couple of soldiers had been making trouble and had sliced their hands open when Binny had taunted them into trying to juggle as many knives as him. Their own fault, really. They should’ve checked how many he could juggle before accepting the challenge.

No , Khobi makes sure to tell them, he certainly does not know that from experience.

(He didn’t even know it was possible to juggle more than three knives without cutting yourself.)

But no matter how juvenile the story, Khojin and Mozry hang onto his every word like they are precious and important.

Khobi doesn’t much like that they described their chat with Bongo as enlightening , made all the more concerning that when he warily asks what they’ve heard, they just laugh. And like he doesn’t quite know his place there, or what he’s supposed to say, Loac stays oddly quiet unless spoken to; just sitting there with their knees grazing and an arm slung loose along the couch behind Khobi, seeming focused more on actually chewing his food on anything else. But Khobi knows he’s listening because when he brags about how easily he’d beaten him today, even after a few days off –Khojin doesn’t need to know it’s a lie –Loac immediately draws up with blazing indignation and calls him a dirty liar. Colourfully, too, which is much more like the Loac he knows, although he deflates a little after cussing him out –giving Mozry the same look Montrel gives Xena when he’s said the word ass in front of her –Khobi probably should’ve told him not to worry; Mozry’s got a worse mouth on her than most of the soldiers. But he didn’t think he needed to –Loac’s never bothered watching his mouth around anyone –and he’s not sure what to make of it that he suddenly is.