#............. .

this is hard omg berny waeee?~ uhhh… 

In the middle of a semi-crowded cobbled street, the later workers are finally leaving their jobs and headed home or towards the nearest tavern for a well-earned bite. On one particular less-lit corner, Harold stares down at Emi incredulously as she looks away and nervously chews at the collar of her cloak.

"What do you mean you gave my machete away? You shouldn't have even been touching it in the first place!" He'd been gone less than five minutes, hustling some money out of the shell-game runners, and the little fae had gone and lost all their stuff (well more his stuff - she didn't really have anything besides the clothes he found her in).

"He's gonna give it back, just asked to borrow it," she mumbles around the cloak, eyes now drawn toward the glowing moths that are starting to come out in the twilight. She'd like to catch one, she thinks, just as soon as the big grumps' done freaking out.

Harold sighs, "No, he's not," shaking his head. "When're you gonna learn, they never give it back. Never trust a stranger kiddo, they're always gonna screw you."

She thinks maybe he's overreacting. Then again, he trusts her, and she was a stranger until they said their names to each other, and she did kind of lose his stuff. Also that maybe they'd have more food if he didn't waste all his energy freaking out like this... "You can buy another one!" She exclaimed cheerfully, exceptionally pleased at her problem-solving skills.

But for some reason the human just sighs even louder, tugging at his hair even though she knows for a fact the action has no resultant value - it won't grow any faster that way, she's already tried last night while he was sleeping. "I can't. I just spent the majority of our money on the room I got us earlier, since you cried last time we slept in the woods."

In her defense the woods are extremely scary and filled with the kind of creatures that likely took her parents, not to mention "Dirty! And itchy! And scary! I can't sleep on the ground Harooo, its not a bed, beds are soft, and you can't sleep without a bed!"

"Ugh, whatever." He's got that scrunchy-thinky face again to accompany his frown. "Okay, um, do you know which way he went? The guy you gave my machete to?" 

"Ummmm," Emi looks around, considering. "There. He went in there!" She chirps, pointing toward the busy tavern down the road, swarmed with stocky dwarves and elves with shady eyes, coal miners off shift heading inside from the street. Her human better appreciate this, she's just solved his problem, like twice! 

"Of course that's where he went," Emi's pretty sure if Harold were more fae, his skin might have turned green and his hair would've poofed out, the way he's looking. "Urg, okay. Emi," he starts sternly, in what she thinks is his parent-voice, "Stay right here," he says as he points down at the ground below her, "I'll, erm, I'll be back in a few minutes." He looks towards the pub, worry warring with annoyance on his face. "Do not talk to anyone. Do not give anyone anything, don't even look at anyone. Just, just stay here and be safe until I get back, alright?"

"Yessir!" She sings out, before plopping into a pretzel position on the ground, smiling and returning her gaze to the growing swarm of moths by the streetlamp above them.