That night, Grimsley had the best rest then he'd received in well over a month. From the late nights and early risings with his parents that had went on nonstop, for weeks upon weeks, to the events of the last few days that had left him with no opportunity for any shuteye whatsoever, the young man had been utterly drained when he laid down beside his friend.Â
Because of this, the boy slept there, still and sound, for a very long timeâ much longer than his woken conscience would prefer.
Grimsley was a relatively deep sleeper; he could easily remain blacked out through conversation and simple city sound effects. Due to this, touch and movement was the rousing he always had received from his family and their staff. The rattle his body received from the tremor of the mattress due to Burgh's movement was similar and just enough to shake him awake.
The heir squirmed slightly for a moment, keeping his eyes closed. After hearing Burgh's whisper, though, he opened them to the new day, only to be met with the dim sight of the fabric which covered his face. He'd missed the exchange with the maid and so had no premise to why the blankets were on him. Groggily, and somewhat confused, he sluggishly pulled them off of his head. It was then that he was able to see just how much light filled the room. His mind then slowly, but surely, awoke to the situation at hand.
Making a sleepy sound, he rose up to sit on the bed, rubbing his eyes in the process.
"...The sun's already up...," he murmured, more-so to himself than the boy beside him, but his words were still barely audible. "...I've stayed too long."
Following, Grimsley edged himself to the edge of the bed as quickly as his still stiff body would allow. He did not turn to face his friend, but instead kept his gaze fixed on the door leading to the balcony, eager to exit the room as quickly as possible; he'd felt guilty enough for asking to stay, but at this hour he was beginning to feel he'd overstayed his welcome. The possibility of him being found here during the day was high, as well, and he didn't want that risk in the air for his friend's sakeâ and, somewhere in the back of his mind, the sake of his own dwindling pride.
Hopping to the floor, the ravenet makes his way over to the door, slides is open, and begins to step through. Right then, he stops, freezing in the doorway with the fresh air of morning blowing onto him from the outside.Â
He knew it was unjust to leave without any sweet words of departure, especially after his sudden invasion the night before. Plus, knowing Burghâ and especially with Burgh knowing that he'd be wandering the streets of the city on his own from this point onâ Grimsley had a strong hunch that some worry was guaranteed from his friend.Â
Riding on this feeling, the boy turned his head towards his friend, laying eyes on him for the first time since he'd awoken. A soft and sincere smile rested on his lips, a smile which conveyed both gratitude and sympathy.Â
"...I'll return just fine," he spoke, warmly.
"I'll come back earlier than I arrived last night; I'll aim for sunset's cue. We can have a chance to actually sit and talk properly, then."
And, with that, the slender boy was gone, erased from the room as a shadow that had met the sun's greeting.
He'd had no real plans for that day. It was, more or less, a day for brainstorming; his time for wandering and thinking with clear and calmed mind for the first time.Â
And, that was exactly what Grimsley did.
Truly, the boy knew little to nothing of Castelia City's layout on his own, since any and all travel had been done by car, aside from the previous day's mentally blind bolt to the shoreline. He decided to take this time to begin to familiarize himself with the city a bit, walking the streets and beginning to form a map of it in his mind, sight seeing and observing key details of his surroundings and allowing his observations to spark thoughts and emotions of various things, which his pondering would branch off from until something else caught his eye. All the while, a certain coin was maneuvered playfully between his fingers, the Sinclair hoping that any good fortune the heirloom held could begin to work its way through him.
Damn, was he hungry, though.
Perhaps scrambling off so quickly hadn't been such a good idea. The more he thought about it, he remembered that he hadn't actually ate anything in quite a long while. Some sort of breakfast before he sat off would have been a brilliant idea. He'd be sure to remember his hunger that evening.
But, with the topic of food on his mind came the topic of buying food. Buying food required money, and money was something that he didn't have.
Grimsley had passed a small bank during this thought, allowing his eyes to rest upon the sight of it.
It was then that he recalled something very important; it was something that could very well steer the path of his course of action, and something he'd be sure to speak with Burgh about when he returned.
Oh, and how eager he now was to return.Â
The hours passed quickly from that point on. While he hadn't manage to explore that far into the city, he found that irrelevant at the time being. By the time the sun was begging to set, Grimsley had only made it barely out of the rear residential area, into a small business area, and back again to his starting point. It was this starting point that was currently of importance to him, though. More accurately, the conversation he would soon be having was what was of relevance to him, at the moment.Â
Swiftly, he followed the same course of action: up the tree (which still remained a struggle for his scrawny and weakened figure), on to the balcony, and into the doorway. Sliding the glass open, he stood once again in its entrance. But, instead of remaining silent like he had the night before, Grimsley actually announced his arrival for the other inside to hear.
"Arti?" He called into the room in a hushed, yet oddly eager, tone. So hushed, as a matter of fact, that he wouldn't be surprised if the sounds of his stomach rung louder than his words. "I've returned."
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