Somehow I Always Find My Way To You

[portolan]

Comments

[portolan]

"You're not that embarrassing anymore," he says brightly. "You only put your foot in your mouth once or twice a day now."

Her question makes him glance at her though. He supposes that makes sense that she's not been around non-royal couples. "The ones I like do. There's not really a specific script, not among thieves and pirates at any rate. Mostly they do what they did before they were married.

Why, itching to go to a tavern? I can buy you a drink and people can coo at how cute and tiny my wife is. A few might even assume you bite."

[floresco]

Scowling she shifts slightly, gently elbowing his side with a huff. "I've never put my foot in my mouth. Ever."

It's an intriguing process, though she's not sure how she feels about being cooed over like that. "I do bite. But, aren't taverns really dangerous? My governesses used to tell me people only go to public drinking houses to get drunk and do things to one another in the shadows."

[portolan]

"Right, of course, dear. My mistake."

Well this is a good dear more fun than he expected.

He raises a brow at her question. "Well now I think you have to find out. Pirate initiation and all." Tightening his grip on her hand, he changes course for a local favorite, aware she's likely tensing at his side.

Of course, it's just a warm wooden building with nice rugs and good healthy potted plants, atmosphere sleepy in the afternoon light. He greets the barkeep brightly, making a point to also greet the children helping quietly in the corner and the workers taking a break.

"Absolutely sordid," he whispers in her ear as they take a comfortable seat near the kitchen door -- always have an escape route.

[floresco]

"You're not going to pull me off into a corner right? We're not that married." Aerith braces herself before stepping into the tavern, unmistakably shocked at what she finds once she comes inside. The space is cozy, it does smell a bit like ale, but it's a far cry from the dens of inequity she was warned about.

Still bewildered, she looks at Balthier, shaking her head at that hushed remark. "I was told never to come to places like this - does it get sordid at night?"

[portolan]

He manages not to laugh outright, but he's not doing a good job keeping the grin off his face. "Things can get out of hand on a rowdy weekend or holidays, but, it's not any worse than court revels. Often better since people keep an eye on each other and are free to intervene. Strangely enough, commoners are utterly civilized."

He nods his thanks at the barkeep brings them light table ale.

"Disappointed your tales are just stories? I know rich girls like to imagine being whisked away for lurid adventures with handsome rogues. I'm sure we could arrange for someone to kiss you in the dark if that's what you're after."

[floresco]

"Arrange for someone to..." Aerith trails off, looking aghast as she leans away from Balthier, frowning. "I don't want a prostitute."

[portolan]

He raises a brow. "Have you never asked someone for a kiss? Used to ordering them around, no questions asked?"

[floresco]

"Of course not I'm a–" Aerith stops, straightening in her seat as she catches herself and finishes that thought without outing herself. "Respectable young woman. You can't just ask people for things like that, you're supposed to just wait and hope."

[portolan]

What a miserable existence. Though he expects if he expresses any pity for her, she might stab him.

Instead, he leans back in his seat, taking a sip of his ale. "You should try it some time. It's a good deal less frustrating."

And safer, honestly. One of the other things he hated about court -- all the manipulation and control.

"Besides. Then you get the chance to say no, too. Or, gods forbid, yes."

[floresco]

Watching him, Aerith takes a moment before following suit, lifting her glass of ale and having an experimental first sip.

"For someone who lectures me about taking everything seriously, you're very interested in getting me to fool around. Are all pirates so contrary?"

[portolan]

It's easy enough to pretend to be watching the tavern while he actually amusedly watches her sip the ale.

"Oh, worse than me," he promises cheerily. "One of the ways you're a natural fit for the profession."

He's debating actually telling her that she ought to use her freedom to ... live ... when he's interrupted by a familiar voice saying his name. He turns his head and grins. Celia, and old friend. Who he doesn't note is gorgeous with flattering clothing. He's just getting up to hug her.

"I heard a gorgeous pirate was in town but I didn't think I'd be so lucky as to run into you," she laughs, kissing him on each cheek.

[floresco]

Aerith, however, absolutely does notice how beautiful the strange woman calling to Balthier is, and her stomach sinks while she watches him react so favorably, going so far as to rise from his seat to let this stranger kiss his cheeks and call him gorgeous.

Glaring daggers at them both, she bites her bottom lip, quickly finishing off more than half of the glass of ale in front of her before clearing her throat loudly.

"Do you touch everybody's husbands like that? Because you're certainly touching mine."

[portolan]

Celia raises a brow between the two of them as Balthier has to bite back a laugh.

“Little controlling there are we?” She asks.

Balthier puts a hand to her arm to still her, clearly a familiar action. “Celia. My wife, Aerith.”

“Not your usual type.” Her eyes narrow, and he suspects she’s running calculations on whether this is a con or he’s gotten himself into trouble.

“Cute as a plains hare and dangerous as a saber cat? I beg to differ. Aerith, Celia and I are old friends. Not a better swordsman on this continent.”

And it’s absolutely to prove the ruse that he steps closer to Aerith, pressing a kiss to her hair. “She’s not used to southern customs,” he shrugs at Celia. He’s only enjoying this because it’s fun to see the princess so flustered.

[floresco]

Her eyes narrow at the remark, lips pursing into a thin line before she hums in acknowledgment of the introduction. Choosing to believe that her disapproval is stemming more from the fact that she's in a strange situation she doesn't quite yet understand how to navigate, rather than anything else, like jealousy.

Trying not to look as irate about being kissed on the head as she feels, Aerith nods mutedly after Balthier's remark.

"Beg your pardon," she mutters icily, looking back down at her ale.

[portolan]

Oh dear she hasn’t been this irritated since the first few days of her kidnapping. It’s … endearing.

Celia shrugs. “Whatever works in your bedroom is not my business.”

Balthier was halfway through taking a drink and chokes with laughter. “Celia you’re going to kill me without drawing your sword.” If Aerith didnt first.

[floresco]

Celia's remark leaves Aerith wide-eyed, something she knows a wife isn't supposed to be about relations with their husband. Shifting in her chair she forces herself to look up, her expression more haughty than aghast - it's an easy defense to reach for, and something she's spent years learning how to do.

She turns her head when Balthier speaks, raising her eyebrows. "I could use the peace and quiet." Reaching for her glass Aerith finishes her ale with all the ease of the seasoned drinker she is not.

"Nice to meet you, Celia," Aerith begins, rising from her seat. "If you choose not to return him in one piece if at all, I'll understand," too fixed on getting herself out of this terrible situation Aerith's already circling the side of the table before she explains herself, talking over her shoulder as she heads out the door.

"My northerly sensibilities and I are going to the apothecary. The chef's helper needs something for his elbows back on board."

[portolan]

Honestly Balthier is considering intervening on this one, but Aerith's fierceness beats him to it. And, well, maybe he deserved that.

"I'll see you at home," he calls, but otherwise lets her go, hanging back with Celia for awhile and catching up, assuring the other that Aerith is simply homesick and culture shocked, and laying a more believable groundwork that their marriage is real; if Celia spreads it, people will believe it.

He does feel bad though; when he was a young not-quite-pirate he was prodded and laughed at and put in uncomfortable situations, and much as many were harmless, the humiliation still stung. That hadn't been his intention.

So he doesn't stay that long, and after he sees to the errands he had in town, a few messages to the right people give him a sense of where she might be. It doesn't take long to find her.

"I'm going back to the ship," he says. "Are you joining me or staying out?"

Really, he's checking the temperature of where she's at.

[floresco]

It's difficult for anyone to look rankled while eating a bag of sugar-dusted fried dough, but Aerith manages it splendidly, glowering by the vendor's stall she purchased them from, a parcel from the local herbalist tucked under the crook of her arm.

Bristling when he pipes up, she lifts her head, primly dusting the sugar off the tips of her fingers as she regards him cooly, looking very much the appraising princess.

"I'm going to eat kebobs."

[portolan]

So much energy to hold a grudge and judge others. That's nobility for you. Any apology is just going to be thrown back in his face, so why bother?

"The stall near the big fountain is the best, but the wait is shorter at the one by the tailor." Which is all he gives before turning to walk off -- though not so quickly she couldn't catch him if she wanted to.

[floresco]

"Fine, just leave me all at sea again, I didn't want to eat kebobs with you anyway!"

If she wasn't enjoying her bag of treats so much, she would have been tempted to lob them at his head.

[portolan]

That does get his attention. He stops, turning to look at her, hands on his hips.

"Alright, out with it. Do you want me to spend the afternoon with you, or do you want me to leave you be?"

[floresco]

"I want you to spend the afternoon with me." Which, she thought was obvious, but, clearly not.

"But if someone else is going to come up and paw you, you need to warn me before they get to you!" Aerith's aware her reaction hadn't been good, and her lack of experience was funny to him, but that didn't mean she had to be okay with being a source of amusement for him.

[portolan]

He could tease, or point out her words had been very much to the opposite, but--

Instead he holds his hand out. "Then I'll spend it with you."

Celia's a lot. He knows that, though he's surprised it bothered Aerith so much. He's sympathetic, though. He knows this isn't how he was raised to communicate, and the girls had it worse.

"It's alright to ask for things, you know. Makes it easier for me to know what you want and what upsets you. That's how us commoners do it."

[floresco]

She doesn't look happy, exactly, but she still walks to him when he extends a hand, halting beside him and tilting her bag of fried dough in his direction, wordlessly inviting him to have one.

"I didn't know if she was one of those lovers that old person at the shops said you had," Aerith finally says, still frowning at him. "I thought leaving was better than finding out, that's all."

Balthier hadn't asked for an explanation but Aerith's pride made her feel compelled anyway.

[portolan]

A peace offering. He does his best not to chuckle at her, instead taking some of the fried dough and starting to walk with her.

"Celia and I were lovers a grand total of, hmm, three weeks? It was a terrible fit." He's watching her face carefully, still trying to figure out which part of all this has set her off. "That was, gods, a decade ago. But even if she were my lover, I promise we don't just jump each other on tables in broad daylight, whatever your governess said about us." Surely it's that?