It’d been a long while since he could say he’d been perched around a campfire. Bae cast a glance from Ardenor, and then to Nebiroth, who leered back at Bae, whose gaze shifted back to Ardenor, then down to his food. The two cleared their throats, receiving a grunt from the violet haired Castanic.
“Perhaps we should share a story?” Bae chimed in, trying to lighten the mood.
Crickets resounded in the background, like the idea had immediately been shot down. Ardenor didn’t seem so quick to judge, Nebiroth on the other hand probably would have preferred to crawl into his tent and smother his face in the rock hard pillow inside his tent.
“How about that one time you two shared a tent?” ‘Roth muttered, eyes narrowing and flicking to Ardenor, who sputtered, choking on a chunk of food that had lodged itself in his throat. Pounding a closed fist firmly against his chest, he eventually cleared it out, and shot a look at Nebiroth. “We’ve been over this. It was one time. And nothing happened.”
“I know what happens when you get drunk,” Nebiroth countered. Bae poked at his food quietly, a small smile creeping to his face.
“I wasn’t drunk,” Ardenor countered back.
“Please,” Bae finally said, looking across at Nebiroth. “Enlighten me as to how he gets when he’s drunk.”
Ardenor’s gaze snapped to Bae, his voice low. “Bae -- don’t encourage him.”
Nebiroth looked across at Bae, arching a brow before looking to Ardenor and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, sweetheart --.”
“I swear to the old God’s, and the new.”
“I don’t believe in your God’s.”
“This is not what Bae had meant by a campfire story,” Ardenor snapped, his brow furrowing. “We shared a tent one time, and nothing happened. Let it go.”
