Don’t kick dirt into the fire out of spite, don’t kick dirt into the fire out of spite, don’t —
"I mean, you can put it out if you want.“ Nirova props an elbow up on his knee, and stares at him mildly. That’s probably the most restraint he’s shown the entire evening— well, beyond not punching Kyrn in the gut at every possible juncture.
Or maybe that’s just manners, he doesn’t fucking know.
Conflicting emotions rise almost simultaneously- victory over getting this bastard to fucking emote at all- and. Well, the proper response to being told to go get eaten by a dragon. Niro’s not quite sure what his expression was doing, but he manages to wrestle it into something more smug.
Two can play at that game, asshole.
"Y'know—” Niro drums his fingers in faux thought, “dragons are pretty fucking frequent around you. If you want me to get eaten that badly, well—”
Might as well mark it as an official invitation in his book. Just, you know, until he gets his rematch. Nirova tries to convey the entirety of that thought into the tilt of his eyebrow.
Then—"What the fuck.“ He reels back, as if proximity will suddenly make Kyrn's— and technically his own, what the fuck— disappear. "That’s not what I- you know I didn’t- what the fuck.”
Even if you asked him, Niro couldn’t tell you if he was more offended over the notion of him ever even considering Kyrn or. Or. Nevermind. Fuck off.
Kyrn stares at him over the fire’s flames, realising that if there’s one thing he gives this annoying brawler, it’s his fierceness. He’s not sure how exactly he feels about it, but he does know the attitude is getting a little old. It was funny at first, now it’s childish.
“Now, now,
I have a dinner to cook.
One I’m not sharing.”
Speaking of, he’s finished separating the goat, and now he’s able to actually put it over the fire so it would cook. What he doesn’t eat, he can feed to the wolves, or sell at the nearest town. Either one is good, so long as it doesn’t go to waste. Even if it does, he doesn’t necessarily care.
Eyes are once again narrowed, suspicious. He feels like he knows what he’s saying, but Kyrn doesn’t believe Niro would be that daft. He’s already said he doesn’t take townsfolk, and, no matter how much he says he’s not, that’s exactly what the brawler is.
The eyebrows confirm it, and the Dovahkiin is more than a tad irritated now.
“I’ll repeat my earlier answer to you,
I don’t take in townsfolk.
I’m not your nursemaid.”
Another change of expression, this time it’s his turn to be smug, evident in the curl of his mouth and the mirth in his eyes. Kyrn leans in as Niro leans back, speaking lowly over the light of the fire.
“Seemed that way to me.
Especially since you’re declaring that
You’re going to follow me around.”
