Afeallan

"Chapter" Six

Rýnelic woke up on the couch. It was early, but Byldan was already in the kitchen, walking as quietly as possible as to not disturb her guest. He felt silly in his loaned attire, and reached on the ground next to him for more familiar clothing. They were no longer there. “You looking for those?” she pointed out the window. Fluttering on a line was his clothes, much whiter than he had seen them in a long time. “I washed them this morning,” she continued. “They stank.”

“Thank you,” he said apologetically.

“You’re welcome. Didn’t want to send you back out into the world with dirty clothes.” She smiled, joking.

“Thanks,” he said again. “But what now?”

“Now, you eat.” She placed a plate of eggs in front of him and he pulled the blanket over himself. He didn’t recall being given a blanket.

“So, what do you make of the old man yesterday?” asked Byldan. “You haven’t really said much on the subject.”

“I don’t know, really. I’ve never heard it before. The story that is. It sounded out of place and yet pertinent. Was it recited or did he just make it up?” Rýnelic chuckled as he said this. “He was probably just delirious.”

“I don’t know,” replied Byldan, musing. “It seemed more than that. Did you see the way he looked at you?”

“I think he looked at Léas, judging by the way he kept bringing it up and dropping the subject.” Again he chuckled to no avail.

“Either way,” Byldan said, standing up and changing the tone of her voice, “I need to get going to work.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I’ll go with you.”

“In that?” she gestured at his garb. “Your clothes won’t be dry for at least another hour.”

“Maybe I’ll come by after they’ve dried.”

“No, you need to rest. Don’t want you losing another fight.” She winked. He winced. “You’re thinking about coming anyway, aren’t you?” She smiled as if taken by an idea. Rýnelic caught her eye. They both looked out the window. Byldan made a dash for the door and Rýnelic gave chase. His ribs hurt and she beat him to the clothesline. “I’m taking these with me and there’s nothing you can do about it. You’ll get them back when I get home.” She nodded her head in approval of herself as she draped the clothes over her arm and called after him as she walked: “Of course you’re free to go anywhere you’d like. I’ll stop by  Léas’ on the way over and send him to keep you company.”

“No!” Rýnelic yelled. “Don’t do that!” She didn’t hear him, or at least pretended. Rýnelic went inside. It wasn’t that Rýnelic disliked Léas entirely. He thought to himself that there was no reason to disfavor Léas. There was, of course, the diary to consider. But past is past, he thought. He was friendly enough. He seemed outgoing yet reserved. This troubled Rýnelic. Was it that he wished to be friendly, but was unable to for lack of confidence, or that he was unfriendly but cordial? Rýnelic wished to ponder these dispositions with the company of his pipe. He brought his companion to the threshold of the door, remembered his outfit, and reconsidered. He sat down in the middle of the room, but with some regard, decided to stand by a window and lean out. It was about this time that a woman was exiting the house directly across the street.