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"Sir?"

Kirin looked down from the window he'd been looking out of for the past hour. Abel had felt him glance down a few times, likely interested in the progress he was making. Now that he was finished, Abel held the garment up with a hopeful smile, showing off his expert stitching.

"Is this alright, sir?"

Abel watched as Kirin took the shirt back and examined the sewn cloth. The shirt itself was stained from years of dirt and sweat, along with the blood he had seen before, which was likely why Kirin had worn the coat over it. When the man's lips turned up Abel knew that he had done a good job.

"Yes, thank you," he said as he pulled the shirt back on over his scarred chest. Abel hadn't focused on it before, and didn't really right then, but he did notice several old marks from injuries long since healed, as well as some that appeared to be more recent. Most seemed to be made from weapons like knives and swords, but one, a near-perfect circular scar right next to his heart, was unnerving.

He has been shot.

It didn't look as old as some of the other injuries, either. And darn it if it didn't pique Abel's curiosity.

"Sir? Who shot you?"

It was a pretty straightforward question, one he knew was likely personal and didn't warrant an answer.

"A thief that had stolen some trinkets from a home back in France."

Abel hunched, looking down at his dirty feet in the straw.

"Oh," he eventually said, then added, "I would not do such a thing."

"Such a thing as shoot me? Or steal?"

Huffing, Abel looked up at Kirin, meeting his eyes without worry. "I am no thief, sir."

"Then you would shoot me?" he asked, raising a brow.

Abel glared and shook his head, lying down on the straw and facing away from Kirin.

The rest of the ride was quiet except for the light pattering of rain that came and went several times throughout the day. He was hungry again by the time the sun began to disappear beyond the horizon and the urge to relieve himself was near impossible to ignore. When the carriage pulled to a stop only a few minutes later, he didn't wait for Kirin to command him and instead jumped from the vehicle and ran to the bushes a few feet ahead of him. He could hear the man following swiftly, his boots stomping heavily on the dusty ground. Abel ignored him, however, as he unbuttoned his pants and finally relieved himself with a content sigh.

When he finished and buttoned his pants back up, Abel glanced sideways and noted Kirin, staring at him with the most bewildered expression on his face. The look was entertaining and expected. The pistol in his hand, cocked and ready to fire, wasn't.

"I am sorry. I could not hold it any longer and I assumed it would not have been favorable to relieve myself in the carriage."

Kirin frowned and, after another moment, reluctantly returned his pistol to his waist.

"Why did you not tell me you had to go?" the man grumbled as he grabbed Abel's arm and led him back up into the carriage. Instead of waiting for an answer, Kirin walked back to the bushes they'd just been standing by and relieved himself. When he returned, Abel figured that the answer wasn't really wanted. He sat in the straw as the carriage began moving again, figuring they still had a good drive left.

"We will be arriving before dusk. Turn around, Abel, and give me your wrists."

Frowning, Abel did as told, putting his hands together behind his back. The ropes were tied tight, but he didn't blame the man. At that point, Abel really did want to try to escape before a cell and shackles made it impossible. When his wrists were all tied up, he sat back down, having knelt to not make Kirin have to bend over too much.