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"No."
"Oh come on!"
"No, absolutely not, I will get arrested, and that will not help us with our mission."
"But you said I could buy whatever I wanted if it was cheap, Master! This is what I want!"
"It's three strings and a patch of fabric, it can't even count as underwear and it's certainly not what you're going to wear by itself."
"Oh my god, you are worse than my mother. Fine, Sir Killjoy, I'll go pick something else!"
This is why, when presented with booty shorts and a halter top, Shishigou Kairi makes no attempt at arguing with Mordred La Fey.
---
They don't get three feet out of the building before Kairi senses danger. It's only thanks to this keen atunement to his surroundings that he manages to back futher up the curb just before Mordred drives the bike directly over where he'd been standing before, wearing his helmet and everything.
"Absolutely not," he says flatly, checking if she's scratched any of the paintwork.
"I haven't even said anything yet!" Mordred cries, lovingly caressing the handlebars of the machine - one of the only things Kairi has ever splashed out on buying. He'd even added a sidecar to carry around his equipment in, though said equipment had been replaced by his Servant recently. "Come on Master, my Riding skill is Rank A, you can trust me on it!"
Kairi squints at her through his shades. "If that's so, then were you about to run me over on purpose?"
"It was gonna be a playful love tap," she defends, possessively leaning over the body of the bike. "I can drive really well, look, I got it over here from where we parked no problem."
He's not actually sure how she did that, since where they parked was a good three hundred meters away, and she had been right by his side until moments before he'd stepped onto the pavement. He can feel her staring at him, through the helmet and through his shades. He's not sure if he's at all capable of wrestling her off the bike without damaging it or himself in some way, and she certainly isn't going to move on her own. A command spell is going much too far for something trivial... but it is his bike... his precious, well-maintained, very expensive bike.
"You can ride it to Ashford," he grumbles begrudgingly, and the rest of what he says is drowned out by Mordred's excited cheering. He regrets this decision around Guildford, as his legs begin cramping up in the sidecar, and he can see several small children laughing at him from passing cars.
---
It's very disrespectful to sit on a gravestone like that, but it's probably more disrespectful to go digging someone's remains out of the ground for use in arcane magic, so Kairi, once again, does not argue.
"So like, you just strap the whole mess together and that's a grenade?" Mordred asks, picking her teeth and inspecting whatever she finds before flicking it away into the dark of the night. "Seems kinda unreliable, what if it just rots?"
"That's what the magecraft part of the whole deal is for," Kairi grunts, throwing another shovel full of dirt over his shoulder. "Keeps it together, makes sure it explodes at the right time, doesn't fall apart before then."
Mordred wrinkles her nose. "Can't say I'm much of one for all this magic-"
"Magecraft."
"-Magecraft," she imitates his voice back at him surprisingly well, considering the difference in the depths of their voices. Maybe it's practice, or an ability. "That was always old man Merlin's thing, and he was a creeper. Seems a bit overcomplicated, if you ask me."
"I wasn't, actually," Kairi grumbles, mostly under his breath, but if the indignant huff is anything to go by, Mordred's ears are as good as her imitation skills. "You could help me dig, you know."
A thin blonde eyebrow raises. "There's only one shovel. What, do you want me to use my sword? My helmet? Because that's not happening."
Kairi drives the head of the shovel into the dirt and leans on it, looking up at his Servant. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that you were too dainty and ladylike to get your hands dirty. My humblest apologies."
First, Mordred stares. Then, she turns redder than her jacket. Finally, after some indignant spluttering of something along the lines of "I'll show you dainty", she leaps down into the pit, takes up the shovel, and starts digging with such ferocity Kairi wonders if she'll stop when she reaches Australia or just turn around and dig her way back again. Thankfully, the sound of wood breaking instead of soil gives her pause enough for Kairi to jump back into the six-foot-deep hole.
"Nice work, Saber," Kairi says, or tries to say, because the last word is less "Saber" and more "Sab-argh", as he is forced to dodge the flat of the shovel sent flying over his head, having been thrown with enough force to embed itself in the wall behind him up to the handle.
"That trick will work only once!" Mordred yells, holding up a finger, still red in the face from anger, and maybe from embarrassment that she fell for something like that. Not his fault her buttons were easy to press. "Only once, got it!?" and with that, she vanishes into a cloud of irritable gold dust. Kairi tries not to smile until he's sure that the servant has gone elsewhere.
---
"Stop, stop, stop! Stop!"
Slamming the breaks on a motorbike at 50mph on the Autostrada is not safe by any means, even if Kairi is able to pull over into a gas station to avoid becoming the world's most unappetising and ugly pancake. After making sure he still has all his limbs and that nothing is exploded or on fire, he turns, takes of his sunglasses, and gives a very flat look at his Servant. Saber is not looking back. Saber is bouncing in her seat, visibly excited, pointing at something.
"Master, look, they sell ice cream here!" she says, jumping out of the side car and bounding towards the display and the ice box. "Wow, why are there so many kinds?"
"People like variety," Kairi wheels the bike closer to the store. "Is this the entire reason why we stopped?"
"I've never had ice cream before," is Mordred's very simple explanation for nearly getting them smeared all over the tarmac. Well, Kairi at least. Mordred would probably bounce or something, he thinks with irritation. She already has her hands in the fridge proper, an expression of bliss on her face. "Ahh, it's too hot in this country, this is nice... Master, can we get some?"
Kairi sighs and closes his eyes. "Listen, you can't just tell me to stop the bike out of nowhere like that, I react on instinct like we're going to hit something. Ask properly and maybe I'd be more likely to..." it is then he notices there is no sighing, no grumbling, no argument to anything he's saying, and when he opens his eyes, there is nothing but air before him. Upon closer inspection, it seems that Mordred has taken three cornettos, two magnums, and about six of a brand he doesn't recognise but is sure will be a heavy toll on his wallet, out of the fridge and into the shop.
She's already speaking in rapid and excited Italian to the man behind the counter, "Don't underestimate my abilities! I could eat all of these for breakfast if I wanted to!", and Kairi really wants to argue that being a necromancer does not pay that well, even if he would like it to. But somehow, there he is, silently and begrudgingly inserting his debit card (he really hopes he comes out of this damn War with a Midas touch or something) and watching the salesman get caught between being intimidated by his huge stature and scarred up face, and smiling fondly at his indulgence of what he probably assumed was his teenage daughter. He could, and really should, argue. But he doesn't. Again.
There are wrappers in every nook and cranny of the sidecar, but Mordred still doesn't waste a single lick of ice cream, and grins proudly at her Master for miles.
---
Trifas doesn't have much by way of cheap lodging. There's a bed and breakfast place, which is, of course, booked by a pack of students, and a fancier hotel, the cost of which is frankly ridiculous. As a result, Kairi is presently laying on a hillside, staring up at the stars, listening to the distant drunken laughter of some American teenagers delighted with European drinking ages. The stars in Romania look no different to the stars in England, or Italy, or anywhere else Kairi could claim to have been forced to sleep outside. At least it isn't raining.
"Hey, Master," Mordred speaks up, in a tone of voice that Kairi has come to recognise as her questioning-the-universe tone. "When we win the Grail, does everyone get a wish, or is it just one Master and one Servant?" She rolls onto her side to look at him, her eyes piercing green in the darkness. Kairi wants to point out that it's if they win the Grail, considering how little they know of the other side's abilities, but it seems that Mordred isn't done. "Because, if it is just one team, I'm going to make sure it's us, no matter what the other Masters or your association says."
Kairi doesn't doubt that Mordred would go to a great many extremes for her chance to draw the sword from the stone, dubious ability to do so aside. Nor, he thinks, would she at all hesitate to take on the entire Association, despite the skill levels and numbers involved in such an undertaking. The problem is, as of now, they don't know who they'll be fighting in this Grail War, and if they couldn't even get past the first Servant they came across, it would all be pointless. Kairi wasn't naive enough to think that he would just walk away from this alive if the Black side were at all serious about winning.
"First, we'll meet the other Masters. Before we can think about winning, we have to think about surviving, and our allies will be vital in planning," Kairi says, after feeling Mordred's gaze burning into him from the side. She flops over onto her back again, sighing.
"Well I know that, I'm not some greenhorn. I've been on a battlefield and fought for a side enough times. I'm just saying, you know, at the end of the day, we're a team ourselves, right, Master? And if it comes down to it, I'll look out for you, so don't worry," and she waits, expectant, hopeful, for a reply. Kairi wants to argue, like he always does, but he glances sideways and sees the girl, ridiculous powers and all, staring at the stars with her young face and eyes old, and he folds his arms across his chest and sighs.
"Yeah. I've got your back too," he says, and her smile is brighter than a solar flare.
"Team Red Saber for the win."
"Tch."