He'll sneak out later. When the moon is up and it's too dark to see him, there's no way Lenny will notice him creeping out. As much as his plan gives him comfort, it also comes with a subtle irritation. Since when did he have to sneak away from commoners?
"So, I've got seven siblings: Merek, Cedany, Emaline, Isabel, Peter, Arthur, and Rose. I'm the youngest, which ain't got as many perks as my siblings think it does," Lenny rambles as he mends some blankets. Montgomery tries to drown him out so he can focus on sulking. "They're all married and moved out now. They still live in town though, and they keep pressuring me to get married but at the same time they guilt me for wanting to move out? It's confusing. Anyways..."
He's been at this for hours, just babbling. Doesn't he ever get tired? Doesn't he run out of things to say? Surely his life isn't that interesting. Although, having seven siblings sounds like a nightmare. Maybe that's why Lenny turned out to be so weird.
For a moment, it makes him think of his own siblings. What are they doing right now? Have they made a case for him to their father? Or were they just as happy to see him gone? He's willing to bet on the latter. As bitter of a thought as that is, he doesn't really harbor any resentment for them. If he was in their shoes, it's what he'd do. They wouldn't blame him, either. They know just as well as he does that getting Father's approval is a cutthroat game.
Does Lenny have to compete with seven other people for his parent's praise? He almost finds himself asking before he remembers that he wants nothing to do with the country bumpkin who tied him to the bedpost with String Shot.
"Everytime I talk about leaving the town my family acts like I'm stabbing them in the back." Lenny rolls his eyes. "As if it means I'm never coming back! They can't blame me for wanting to travel a bit; I've never left the village. Ever," Lenny states, shaking his head as he sews thread through some fabric. "My ancestors moved here from somewhere farther inland and stayed here until they died. And so did their kids. And their kids, and their kids and their kids, and... well. You get the drift."
On top of all of Montgomery's grievances toward life, his nose begins to itch. He glares at the ceiling. Could he ask Lenny to take the threads off him? It probably wouldn't do much good. He's starting to realize that this commoner isn't as easy to boss around as the others.
"I know they just worry about me, especially with all this scary Zekrom nonsense going on. They don't want me to die like so many people already have," Lenny says, looking contemplative and solemn. "A lot of people are on edge about it. A lot of people are suffering. I think it's great that you're fixing to bring an end to that."
Montgomery is pretty surprised to be drawn into the conversation. Lenny has seemed pretty content to chatter to himself for the rest of the night, and he thought his grumpy vibes would chase off any desires to engage him. It usually does. Whenever he's in any sort of bad mood, his father flat out refuses to speak to him until he's neutral again.
It takes him a moment to form a response. "...Naturally."
"Did you like the soup I made? You ate two bowls; you must've been hungry," Lenny remarks, setting the blanket aside.
His mouth waters slightly as he remembers the potato stew that Lenny brought him. "It was okay."
Lenny smiles, as if he knows some great secret. "I'm glad you liked it."
For a moment, silence drifts between them. It's not tense. The quiet doesn't hound him in anyway, but it is awkward. He surprises himself with how much he wishes Lenny would say something.
Eventually, he can't take it anymore and he blurts, "When are you gonna let me go?"
Lenny folds the blanket and rises from his chair. "You should be better by tomorrow. If you stick around, I'll make you a breakfast before you leave. It's the least I can do for someone who helped me out so much."
He wonders for a moment if that remark is some veiled insult. Between the two of them, it's clear that Lenny has helped him a lot more than he's helped Lenny. But no matter how much he replays and analyzes Lenny's words, he can't find a trace of guile in them. His words are straightforward and honest. It's a nice change of pace from the backhanded nobles he's used to.
He kinda likes it.
But he hates being indebted to Lenny even worse. So, there's no way he's sticking around for breakfast tomorrow.
After listening to Lenny ramble on about all the different knit stitches there are (why are there so many?!), the door to the bedroom opens only a sliver. An older swadloon pokes her head in, and upon seeing Montgomery, she quickly hides her face behind the door as if she's unworthy of his gaze.
That's the kind of treatment he's used to from commoners. That's what he's been waiting for all day. It's about time!
He steadfastly ignores the way it makes his heart twinge.
The older woman says, "Lenny, you ought to get some rest. Early day in the field, tomorrow."
They actually use that dead old thing? No wonder they don't have enough money to pay their taxes, they can't grow anything in land like that.
"Sure thing, Ma. I'll be right out."
The woman nods and closes the door slowly, as if any loud noises or sudden movements will get her yelled at. Lenny stands, taking the blanket he folded and placing it in Montgomery's lap. He places his hands on it hesitantly, giving Lenny a questioning look.
"All our blankets had too many holes in them, so I mended this one for you to use tonight," Lenny explains, smoothing it out over Montgomery's lap. He mended a blanket for him? Most people he knows wouldn't even hand him a blanket. Putting out the light beside the bed, he says, "I know it ain't much, but I hope it keeps you comfortable."
It's scratchy where the stitches went in and way too thin to be considered a source of warmth. He runs his hands over it and finds his voice cracks when he replies, "It's great." Then, as if an afterthought, he forces himself to add, "Thanks. For everything."
Lenny smiles, soft and warm, and walks to the door. He opens it, foregoing any courtesies his mother had displayed when closing it. "Sleep well, Mott. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah." He swallows. "I'll see you."
By the time the door is fully shut, the air in the room feels different than before. He can't explain why. All he knows is that it feels emptier than before. Colder, too.
Shaking his head, he forces himself to snap out of this weird trance. What is he doing! This is the first real chance he's had all day to escape, and he's wasting it in some imaginary world. He doesn't have time for this! Snatching one of his scalchops, he slices the threads Lenny bound him with and frees himself from the bed. He shakes himself off and leaps to his feet, racing to the door before halting.
He doesn't know what the rest of the house looks like. What if this bedroom just opens up to another bedroom and he runs right into Lenny? What if he walks in on Lenny's parents? With that horrifying thought in his mind, he spins on his heel and hastily retreats to the window. It failed him once; but this time, things will be different.
He's careful to open it slowly. Taking it an inch at a time, he ensures that no loud squeaks alert anyone of what he's up to. Once it's open enough for him to squeeze through, he throws one leg over the sill and pops himself out.
This time, his feet touch the ground. It's such a glorious moment he could cry.
Freedom! Sweet, sweet freedom!
He closes his eyes to focus on the sensations around him. The gentle breeze, the smell of grass, even the chilly night air brings joy to his heart. Finally, finally, he's one small step closer to Zekrom. With a victorious grin, he sets off to take his first steps as a free man.
His ankle is immediately snagged.
"Oh come on!" He protests, his arms thrashing angrily over his head as he's held upside-down once more. Glaring up at Lenny, he demands, "Why are you even on the roof?!"
Lenny holds up a tool that looks suspiciously like junk. "Fixing it."
Grouchily, Montgomery folds his arms across his chest and grumbles to himself. Stupid Lenny and his stupid bug moves and his stupid roof...
Lenny watches him slowly twist in his dangling position for a moment before sighing. "You're really not gonna give this up, huh?"
"So why don't you just let me go already?" He snaps.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes!"
"You know what, I'll make a deal with you," Lenny starts, and Montgomery regards him skeptically. "I'll let you go. If! If—you take me with you."
Montgomery stares. "No."
"Yes."
"No!"
"Yes."
Montgomery groans in frustration. There was a time, not too long ago, when a commoner like Lenny wouldn't dare to push him around like this. Unfortunately, Montgomery is no longer in a position of power to do much about it. Which means he's no longer in a position of power to order Lenny to do much of anything.
"Fine! Fine," he relents, scowling. As if the words physically hurt him, he slowly grinds them out. "You... can... come."
Lenny beams, letting him down. He tears the silk from his ankles and rubs them grudgingly. Lenny hops down, his face lit up like the stars.
"Let me write a quick note to my Ma and Pa!" He cries, practically bursting with excitement as he rushes inside. "I'll be right back! Don't you go nowhere!"
Montgomery rolls his eyes. Chances are, if he tried to slip away now, Lenny would still manage to catch him with that ridiculous string. Tapping his foot in the dirt impatiently, he looks up to glare at the full moon, as if beseeching it to have some mercy on him.
It smiles back at him with its crescent-shaped glow, so Montgomery has a feeling that's a big fat 'no' on the mercy front.