A Lesson in Aristocracy

XII - Tipsy

Arden opened his eyes to water being poured on his abdomen, slowly turning his gaze to Hyarith.

"I faint a lot," he mumbled, feeling the water collect around his sides. It was fresh, clean - it helped wash the sickness out of his gills.

Hyarith looked at him, continuing to pour water into the wooden tub.

Arden grumbled, leaning back into the tub before he felt a ton of bricks fall onto his chest.

"You saved me," he whispered, Hyarith turning with mild interest.

"Gonna thank me?" Hyarith asked, Arden slowly lifting himself out of the wooden tub he'd been placed in.

"You... you stayed. You could've left when I was out there. You could've been free."

"I can't fly, genius," Hyarith motioned to the tear in his wing. "Besides. The guards would kill me."

Arden swung his legs over the side, stumbling towards Hyarith. The Lozenfi tilted his head. "Get back in the tub," he said, before Arden jumped on him.

"What are you doing..?!" Hyarith yelped as Arden wrapped his arms around him, holding tightly.

"You stayed," he mumbled again, tears welling up in his eyes. Hyarith stared at him, unsure what to do with his arms. He didn't think it appropriate to hug him back - he did hate the handler, afterall - but something told him it was a better option than leaving the man hanging.

Hyarith delicately laid his arms around Arden, remaining silent as he cried into his chest.

"You're never gonna leave me, right? You're gonna stay?"

It occurred to Hyarith then that Arden was, in fact, still quite drunk.

"Sure."

The handler then began to cry even more violently, Hyarith just standing there and uncomfortably patting his back.

-

"Arden!"

Arden shivered, pulling the blanket tight over his shoulders. He began to stand, quickly being pushed down in the chair.

"I'll get it," Hyarith said, beginning to turn.

"No!" Arden yelled, standing up again. "I told you to stay down here. You're not allowed upstairs," he grabbed Hyarith's wrist, being quickly shoved off.

"You think you're in any position to command me?"

Arden stared at him, scowling.

"Arden? Are you home?"

"I know that voice. It's your handler friend's."

Arden frowned deeper before Hyarith swept up the stairs, as if he owned the place.

Quetsan looked markedly surprised when Hyarith opened the door, the two staring at eachother for a long moment before Hyarith cleared his throat.

"He's not well."

Quetsan looked a smidgen concerned, weaving his hands together.

"May I.. come in?"

"I don't see why not," Hyarith retorted, stepping away from the doorway. Quetsan made his way inside, closing the door behind him. He looked around a moment before finding the staircase, rushing downstairs.