Laurentius wants the K something fierce.
Hawke gave a soft shiver, arms wrapping more fully around herself beneath her cloak, shuffling forward as if just a hair’s breadth closer to the fire would warm her more. It was not the right months for outdoor rest, and every night she fell asleep she risked not waking up. It could really go without saying, that Hawke hadn’t slept very much at all in the most recent weeks.
One might have thought it would have been a smart idea to get a room in a tavern, and she was hardly lacking the funds for such a venture. But the closest taverns were ones she knew a certain pyromancer to frequent, and she dared not risk bumping into him. She had avoided him successfully for weeks, and —
She would have flinched were her limbs not stiff with the chill, and instead her brow furrowed, head dipping to press her forehead against her forearms.
"What is it, pyromancer?"
Laurentius was hesitant. He had not seen the woman in so long he dared to think perhaps —
"Long time no see. Almost like you’ve been avoiding me."
She did not answer, and he chose to take that as permission to sit by her side. He sat close, wrapping an arm around her waist as they had done many times in the past. Careful fingers rolled gently against the thick cloak she pulled so tightly around her body, generating a heat, a warm glow that seemed to spread from her side throughout her body. She wanted to stay, then. She wanted to allow him to warm her, to be by her side, to need her.
But she was still a coward.
She stood then, but it was hardly a clean affair. Stiff limbs made it as difficult as possible to push from the ground, so much so that she stumbled back into his arms to the detriment of her purpose. A scowl touched her brow and she shook her head as she regained her feet, though not a word was spoken as Laurentius simply watched her kick dirt over her fire and retrieve her pack.
But he was given no time to finish as she spun on heel. Cold hands touched his cheek and sent a shiver down his spine as he was pulled closer and a kiss was pressed roughly, swiftly against his lips. Were he not too taken by surprise, he might have seen the hurt in her eyes before it was immediately replaced with a familiar film of resentment.
"I’m sorry, Laurentius." Hawke said, as she turned to walk away. "Don’t follow me."