Ghost

Person B: "Don't. It’ll be a while before I return."

Person B: "We just started dating."

Person A: "So? We've known each other for long enough. You asked me out, I want to propose. Even it out."

Person B: "I hate them."

Person B: “?? Do you think it’s an infinite kind of thing???”

Person A: “It seems like it.”

Person B: "Really? Haven't heard that suggestion before."

Person A: "Most people don't look at you like I do."

Person B: "Or maybe I just smile more when you're not around."

Person A: "..."

Person B: "Mostly everything."

Person A: "Mostly?... What don't you like about me?"

Person B: "Very little. Let's focus on the positives though--"

Perhaps the Mage was getting a bit rusty with the intricacies of social etiquette and rules. He supposes being a hermit (and an exile) will do that to you. 

For example, he doesn’t register the fact that he’s been publicly challenged to a duel until the Knight starts to remove some of his outer robes. His cloak, his hood – he hands it off to the Mage. Well, he more so throws it at the Mage, but that’s really the least of anyone’s issue here. 

“Knight,” he calls out, hoping to stall a bit to try and catch up to the current events. What exactly had he done to offend the other party? He doesn’t think he’s done anything. “Knight, wait a moment.” 

“What.” The Knight regards him with a faint frustration, reattaching the arming belt to the bits of armor on his legs. 

“What exactly spurred this on?” The Mage looks to the other party for some indication to an answer– only to be met quite a hateful glare. He looks back to the Knight, he levels him a looks of similar disdain, but the Mage likes this one a bit more. 

The Knight doesn’t answer him right away, opting to tighten the last knot on his belt before moving to his arms to tie the vambraces. It’s then that he looks at the Mage. “You were exiled,” he replies, flat.

So it’s nothing he’s done recently. Well, that answers one question. However, there was still another.

“Hm. I don’t recall electing you as my champion,” the Mage teases, folding the fabrics that have been placed into his arms. He moves to hand the cloths back, just as the Knight finishes fastening vambraces to his forearms. 

“You didn’t have to,” the Knight states. His eyes catch onto the fabrics, pausing briefly before making eye contact with the Mage. Judgement bleeding through his flat expression. “You really didn’t have to.” 

The Mage insists, “I can take care of my own problems.” 

And the Knight’s expression shifts to a bitter discontentment, as he regards the Mage for a short moment more before turning away and picking up his sword. 

“Knight.” The Mage is ignored. “Knight! You do plan on winning, yes?” 

The Knight turns back, an expression of disgust colouring the whole of his face, before turning forward again and stepping into the fray. 

The Mage hopes that he still has his honour after this. 

–––––––

The Knight won, of course. 

With a seemingly smug posture, he walks over to the Mage. 

“What was it you asked before?” 

Person B: "Hm? Me visiting you?"

Person B: "But it's been working so far."

Person B: "...finally?"

Person B: "Yeah."

Person A: "Are you sure--"

Person B: "I asked you out. I know what I'm doing. You said yes. Do you know what you're doing?"

Person A: "..."

Person B: "We don't have to go out. I enjoy you in any context."

Person A: "Ugh."

Person B: "You're smiling."

Person B: "Here? I had a feeling that you were bleeding out and dying. Wanted to see if I was right."

Person A: "...fucked up feeling that is."